


The Hourglass

by wastelandfrenzy



Series: The Hourglass [1]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Action, Deleted Lines, Depression, Drug Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, F/M, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Includes Nathan's Unused Audio, Mental Health Issues, Mild Sexual Content, Mystery, Post-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Harm, Slow Build, depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-07-13 21:58:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 63,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7139114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wastelandfrenzy/pseuds/wastelandfrenzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max didn't expect to see Nathan Prescott ever again after his arrest. Broken and missing her best friend, strange occurrences bring her back to Arcadia Bay and the life she never wanted to revisit. She finds an unlikely ally as she begins to investigate more disappearances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place post-canon, following the ‘sacrifice Chloe’ ending. Slight ooc in that Max has become very bitter and disturbed since these events. Nathan is more subdued after his extended stay in a mental rehab facility. Max’s parents have also moved back to Arcadia Bay (just to avoid confusion in the first chapter.) If you haven’t played through all the episodes, many of Max’s memories and flashbacks won’t make sense.
> 
> I'm so nervous to post this! Go easy on me, this is my first attempt at writing anything in *years,* and I'm still rusty. I have most of this story written already, and will be uploading chapters as I edit them and finish up the ending. <3
> 
> edit: this fic disregards any new canon introduced in Before the Storm

_Not guilty._

That was the official verdict for Nathan Prescott.

Max wasn’t sure why she had come. She wanted no part in this. The gunshot still rang in her ears, reverberating in the tiny girls’ bathroom. Max hadn’t even testified, letting her detailed police report and the forensic experts that had poked and prodded and measured every angle of Chloe’s dead body do the work in trial. _Chloe._ Her blood was on Max’s hands. It didn’t matter that she had stood by that lighthouse, the rippling tornado looming towards Arcadia Bay, and told Max to finish it. It didn’t matter that Chloe had been willing to give herself up. It was still Max who had made the decision to go back, to save all those other lives.

_Not guilty._

With the help of his psychiatrist and the many expensive lawyers Sean Prescott had hired, Nathan had pleaded insanity. While he would receive no official jail time, the judge had sentenced him to an extensive stay in a rehab facility, followed by parole.

Now, she stood outside of the gray stone courthouse in the crisp, winter air, a horde of spectators pressing in on her uncomfortably. She could feel their breath on the back of her neck as they awaited eagerly for a glimpse of the criminals’ faces.

The blame had fallen solely on Mark Jefferson. He had been sentenced to prison not only for the murder of Rachel Amber, but every single red binder in his dark room had tacked on additional time to his sentence. It sent an icy chill through Max’s bones when she thought about all of the incidents Jefferson wouldn’t be charged with. Victoria’s death, Chloe’s death in the junkyard, and Max’s abduction. He wouldn’t be charged with these things because they had technically never happened. They existed only in Max’s mind. Nobody else would ever know.

Max had changed time. Crouching in half behind the stalls on the cold, linoleum floor of the bathroom and listening to the thud of Chloe’s fall was the worst moment in her entire life. Nathan dropped the gun as if it was on fire and it clattered with a metallic echo, his cries of agony and regret filling up the space, engulfing her in their stifling thickness. Max had chewed her knuckles, refusing to cover her ears to block out the sound. _This is your fault,_ she told herself. It was no better than standing idly by as William took his keys and left the Price household, never to come home again.

Suddenly, the heavy doors to the courthouse swung open and the voices in the crowd swelled as everyone pushed forward at once. Max’s sneakers scuffed against the sidewalk as she struggled to keep her balance against the people.

Mark Jefferson was being led out of the building in silver handcuffs. Max looked away, careful not to catch even a glimpse of his face. She didn’t need any more fuel to the flame of nightmares that blazed a trail through her dreams. Thankfully, they took Jefferson off to the side to a waiting law enforcement vehicle. She didn’t have to look at him.

 _What am I doing here?_ Perhaps she needed closure. Perhaps she needed to see Jefferson going to jail once and for all. In her heart she knew that wasn’t true. She was punishing herself, forcing herself to watch Nathan go practically free after shooting her best friend.

Now the crowd’s collective murmurs rose to a cacophony as Nathan Prescott appeared at the top of the stone steps. The reporters that had been restrained from following Jefferson now focused all of their raw energy on Prescott, shoving cameras and extending microphones at his face, eager for a spectacle.

Max focused on Prescott’s pale face. His eyelids were rimmed purple, and he was looking only at the sidewalk and probably didn’t even see her standing there. Another car was waiting nearby, presumably to take Prescott to the rehabilitation center. The angry horde barely stepped aside to let him pass through.

Max was not prepared for the wave of fury that hit her like a torrent, thick and heavy like bricks, crashing through the walls of her composure.

This is what Chloe wanted, Max reminded herself. _What you wanted. You made this choice, you knew what would happen._ She saw Prescott in her head, pulling the trigger, and suddenly her anger overtook her, bubbling over like lava.

“You killed her! You killed her, you bastard!”

Max did not recognize the voice that clawed its way out of her throat as she threw herself at Nathan in her rage. Tears blurred her vision and she couldn’t see Nathan’s face or the security guard that pushed her away and quickened the pace to the idling car.

Cameras flashed, hungry for the theatrics, and Victoria’s face appeared, sharp and bitter as she yanked Max backwards with all her might. Victoria would always protect Nathan.

Nathan kept his face down at the sidewalk as he was deposited in the car. Hot tears ran twin trails down Max’s face as they drove away.

 

* * *

 

 

_1.5 years later_

The scent of pine from the towering trees of Arcadia Bay wafted into her open car window as Max Caulfield drove through the streets once again. The nostalgia was so heavy in her mind that her head started to ache. If only things looked even a little different, it wouldn’t be so bad. But no, Arcadia Bay looked and smelled exactly the same.

If Max had gotten her way, she would be attending college on the other side of the country, as far away from the Bay that Chloe would be forever trapped in as possible. Her parents and her therapist, however, had different plans for her. They had reached a compromise on a fairly prestigious art school in Portland. It was still too close for Max.

At a red light, her phone buzzed. It was Victoria.

**_VC:_ ** _Still in town?_

**_MC:_ ** _Just got here._

**_VC:_ ** _Two Whales at 3?_

**_MC:_ ** _See u there._

When she pulled into the gravelly parking lot of the Arcadia Bay Community College, she spotted Kate Marsh standing nearby, looking eager as she waved her arm at Max.

“I thought we were meeting in the cafeteria,” Max said, climbing out of her blue car. Kate didn’t hesitate to throw her arms around Max, squeezing her tightly around the middle.

“I couldn’t wait, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t get lost.” Kate still looked exactly the same, her features small and dainty, blonde hair whimsically swept up.

“That’s so nice of you, it’s great to see you,” Max replied warmly.

She and Kate had hung out frequently during their senior year at Blackwell. Kate had bounced back surprisingly quickly from the dark room incident, throwing herself into volunteer programs and community service. It had been so amazing watching her turn the pain of a bad situation into something motivating, something positive for other people. “God helps me through everything,” Kate always said solemnly. Unlike Max, she had started college the very next year, taking no time off to “recover” as Max had continually had to explain to her perplexed parents.

“How do you like it here?” Max asked her once they had settled into their seats.

“It’s great here! I’m finishing up my pre-reqs and I’m transferring to Bible college next year. My pastor already gave me his written recommendation and everything. All that’s left is to sign up for classes!”

Max smiled. Kate’s enthusiasm was contagious, and she relaxed into her chair as they caught up as old friends.

“So, you’re back in town to see your parents, right?” Kate asked.

“Yeah. Just visiting.” Max did not add that if it was up to her, she wouldn’t be here at all. She didn’t want to cloud their meeting with negativity. She loved seeing Kate happy and healthy in her new routine. Even thinking about the fact that she could have stepped off that roof at Blackwell made her stomach churn slightly. These days, it seemed like just about everything churned her stomach.

Kate showed Max her dorm room and the new illustrations she was working on. Her children’s book on bullying had taken off, and the publishing company who had picked it up asked for two more books in the series. Max snapped a picture of Kate’s bunny, Alice, and the strings on her violin. It was almost like old times, at Blackwell.

The sun was lower in the sky when Max headed back to her little blue car. She was glad to have Victoria as another distraction before seeing her parents. She loved them and all, but their concern for her mental well-being had been bordering on smothering for some time now. They just didn’t understand why it was taking her so long to recover from Chloe’s death.

Yes, they agreed it was a tragedy, but the girls hadn’t seen each other for five years, and didn’t Max think she was hanging on a little too long?

Max couldn’t tell them about their reunion in Arcadia Bay and the amazing week they spent together. She couldn’t say that Chloe had given up her life to save the town, and that Max had _let her._ That it wasn’t just Chloe’s death that was keeping her awake at night, that it was the feel of Jefferson’s icy fingers tightening the restraints around her wrists, the sharp of the needle in the soft skin on her neck, the flash of the camera in the stark, white room that was burned into her eyes. That didn’t exist anymore.

Max pulled herself out of her daze as the neon whale on the sign came into view. The Two Whales diner looked the same, she shouldn’t have expected anything else. Delicious smells of fried food permeated the parking lot and caused her to quicken her pace.

When she entered the diner, Joyce was nowhere to be found. There were a few locals scattered on the barstools, and a low tune of what sounded like strumming banjos emitted from the jukebox in the corner. Max spotted Victoria’s blonde hair peeking over the red, vinyl booth. Her heart lurched when she saw Victoria sitting in Max’s usual booth. She could practically see Chloe’s blue hair in the seat across from her.

“Uh, not here, okay?” Max said, motioning to the booth behind them.

Victoria’s pretty face wrinkled in confusion and halfhearted irritation. “Whatever,” she sighed. Max tore her gaze away from the graffiti etched into the Formica tabletop as Victoria slid out of the booth and moved to the next one. Thankfully, she did not question her further.

Max peered across the table. Victoria had grown her hair out slightly and added a shiny chestnut color, resulting in some sort of chic two-tone look. Her fashion sense was still impeccable, designer jewelry with brands that Max couldn’t even pronounce draped around her wrists and neck.

Max wondered if she still looked the same.

Victoria’s perpetually bored expression gave away nothing. After the gunshot incident at Blackwell, Victoria and Max had formed an unlikely companionship for the rest of senior year. Victoria of course did not remember any of their (however slight) bonding that they had experienced in the previous timeline, but seeing her so bent out of shape had led to Max comforting her all over again. They weren’t the closest of friends, but they had both lost their best friends in one fell swoop. They seemed to draw a mutual comfort from the similarity. Victoria had been truly disarmed in a way that Max hadn’t expected when Nathan was taken away. Max could not relate to the pain of losing Nathan Prescott, but she did relate to the pain that came with losing a loved one.

“I’m surprised you came back,” Victoria said suddenly, jarring Max out of her daydreams. Max had made it no secret that she wanted nothing more than to leave Arcadia Bay in the dust.

“Yeah, well, you know parents…” Max uttered sullenly. She did not feel the need to fake enthusiasm now that she was no longer with Kate. “How is school?”

Victoria scoffed. “You’re asking me about school? Please. Community college is mind-numbing. I’d rather talk about anything else.”

Max and everyone else had been utterly shocked at Victoria’s decision to attend the local ABCC rather than a university straight away. With her talent and money, she could have gone anywhere, and instead she was slumming it at a low-grade college. Victoria always shrugged her designer-clad shoulders and played it off cool, flicking her cigarette ash. _“It’s not like I’m stuck there forever, I can always transfer out.”_ Nobody but Max had understood the sudden fragility that had appeared within Victoria’s façade. She wanted to be close to home. It wasn’t much, but it was here.

 “My stars, it’s Max Caulfield!” a voice interrupted them. Max looked up to see Joyce standing over the booth in her work apron, a little notepad sticking out of the pocket.

“Hi, Joyce,” Max said, smiling.

“How could you not tell me you were coming home again?” Joyce sounded almost offended, but Max knew better.

“I’m sorry, it was kind of a last-minute road trip.”

“It is so good to see you here, honey. You hungry?”

“I’ll take a sandwich, the one on the lunch special. And some coffee, please.” Despite it being afternoon, Max found herself exhausted. Caffeine sounded heavenly.

“I’ll just have some fries,” Victoria said.

“Coming right up. Now, you’ll be sure and stop by the house later, hm? I wanna hear all about this fancy university you got into.” Joyce hurried away to retrieve a coffee mug.

Victoria looked at the expression on Max’s face. “I guess we should have met somewhere else.”

“No, this is fine. Really. It’s nice to see Joyce again.”

“‘Nice.’ I can tell by the look on your face.”

Max resisted the urge to rub her temples. “It’s just…the same,” she struggled to get out. “Everything here is exactly the same and it’s driving me crazy that Chloe’s not here. Everything’s the same, but it isn’t!”

Victoria nodded knowingly. “That’s the thing about small towns. I felt the same way for a long time. I’m sure it’s worse for you knowing that she can never come back.”

Max’s mind unhelpfully conjured an image of Victoria, bound at the wrists and gagged in the Dark Room with her. Most of the time she was happy that these people hadn’t actually experienced the horrors of the alternate timeline, but now was one of the times that she simply cursed her so-called “gift” and wish for the thousandth time that it had been somebody else who had developed the power to rewind time.  

Having finished listening to a voice message, Victoria set her phone down in disgust. “You’re not the only one with parents on your ass, let me tell you that.”

“They still hassling you about where you’re going to transfer?”

“Every waking moment.”

“Why don’t you just…do it? You never seemed cut out for small-town life.”

“I know that, and don’t get me wrong, I have big dreams. There’s no way I’m going to rot in this town. I just really needed this hiatus. Learning that Nathan was involved in that…creepy Dark Room the police found after they arrested Jefferson…I don’t know. I mean, he _killed_ somebody. I thought I understood him… And between my mentor turning out to be a psychopath, and Kate stepping forward to testify against them, that year really took a lot out of me.”

Max said nothing. She never had much to say when Victoria talked about Nathan. She knew Victoria was sad and all, but Nathan Prescott would forever be at the top of Max’s shit list, to say the least.

Victoria had not stayed in touch with Nathan, and she could tell she felt guilty over it.

“Anyway, I can’t hold out much longer. It was fun seeing my parents nearly stroke out over my ‘impertinence,’ but I have got to get the hell out of here. I’m ready to take my photography to the next level.”

“That’s great, I know you’ll be really successful,” Max encouraged.

Joyce approached the booth once more, setting the plates on the table with a flourish.

“Y’all enjoy,” Joyce said with a wink.

* * *

 

 

The first time it happened had been out of nowhere. Max was still in her senior year at Blackwell, sitting in the park with Warren taking pictures. Only two months had passed since Chloe’s death, the wound still raw and new. There was a family nearby sitting on the benches eating hamburgers off of paper plates. When Max glimpsed the man at the grill she staggered backwards as Mark Jefferson’s face appeared in the smoke rising from the burgers. She clutched her chest as she looked closer to see that no, it was just a stranger with brown hair and black-framed glasses, making food for his family.

But it was too late, and her breaths came in quick, staccato gasps, the ground spinning beneath her feet. An invisible hand tightened around her throat, cutting her windpipe off as she sank to the grass, desperate for air, desperate for the dizziness to clear in her mind.

Warren had propped her head up and called her name eleven times before she was able to respond. People were starting to look over at them.

“It’s fine,” she whispered. “It’s fine. I just got dizzy.”

“Just got dizzy?” Warren repeated, frowning. “Tell me what happened for real.”

“I don’t know, I must have forgotten to eat lunch or something. I’m fine.”

The panic attacks didn’t stop. When she finally explained them to her mother, she urged Max to find a therapist to speak to. She found one in Arcadia Bay that she went to for a while, but when she moved to Portland they’d had to find somebody else. Her new therapist was a friendly, middle-aged woman named Wendy Stern. So far, she had shared all she could about the nightmares, focusing mainly on Chloe’s death. Max didn’t feel like she was making much progress.

 

* * *

 

 

“You okay? You’re acting weird,” Victoria informed her.

They were sitting in Victoria’s dorm room at the community college, playing some music off of Max’s phone. Victoria’s roommate was out, and she had a lit joint hanging lazily out the window, smoke curling up in ringlets as the outside air swallowed it up.

Max wiped her clammy hands on her jeans. Her palms had started to break out in a cold sweat, and she could feel her heartbeat in her throat, irregular. These were signs of her panic attacks, but she felt pretty confident she could keep her cool.

“You look like you could use a hit of this.” Victoria outstretched her arm in Max’s direction. She peered at the orange, smoldering tip of the rolled paper.

“I’m okay. Thanks, though.”

Victoria shrugged and licked her lips, dry from smoking. “This music…you listen to some weird shit. But it is kinda catchy.”

“Thanks. This is only the single. You’ve gotta check out the full album.”

“I think I will. Hey, are these your latest pictures?” Victoria’s finger traced down the worn, black cover of Max’s portfolio that had fallen out of her bag.

“Yeah, I’m doing a series on light and shadow in one of my photography classes.”

“These photos are actually pretty cool. Lucky,” Victoria remarked as she flipped through it. “I’ll bet _your_ classes are actually interesting. I can’t wait till next semester, when I move to a real art school. The professors here are so braindead it’s pathetic.”

“Do you regret coming here?” Max asked.

Victoria let out a sigh. “No. I know I’m bitching about it a lot, but I really think it was the best thing to do.”

“Then forget what your parents are saying about your ‘wasted potential.’ Gotta do you, right?”

“Exactly.”

 

* * *

 

 

Max was actually glad to leave Victoria’s dorm. The company was fine, but the smell of the weed just reminded her of Chloe. It had been long enough now that she didn’t cry all the time, but there was still a dull ache in her chest that she couldn’t seem to shake. She’d had this plan to go around Arcadia Bay, visit the beach, talk to Joyce and David, hike up to the lighthouse, and visit Chloe’s grave. Visiting with Kate and Victoria had stirred up so many unwanted emotions in Max that she blew all of it off. She wrote a hasty note about needing to get back to school on the back of a grocery receipt and left it on Joyce’s door, guilt burning in her stomach. She practically ran from the front door back to her car, begging her eyes not to drift up towards Chloe’s window.

Max was ashamed. This had once been her home, and now all she wanted to do was run.

“Are you even listening? Hello?” her mother called to her at the dinner table.

Max lifted her gaze to her parents staring at her concernedly.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I was spaced out about this paper I have to write,” Max lied. Her dad believed it easily enough and scooped up another forkful of potatoes. Her mom, however, fixed her eyes on Max until she began to fidget uncomfortably from the scrutiny, picking at the tablecloth.

“Are you sure you want to be heading back to Portland so late in the evening? You won’t even get back to your dorm until ten o’clock tonight,” her mom said.

“I’m fine as long as I leave by seven-thirty. If I stay here I’m just going to have to leave super early in the morning. I’d rather sleep in my own bed.”

“You have a bed here.”

“You know what I mean.”

Her mother began to push the food around on her plate in irritation. “I just feel like you never want to spend any time with us. You begged us to let you come here for Blackwell, and then when we move back to be closer, you’ve just had enough of it? This is your childhood town.”

“I _graduated._ I was always planning on leaving for college. And you know why I didn’t want to be around,” Max added. “It has nothing to do with you guys.”

Max took a few steady breaths once she got behind the wheel of her car. Her mom was still pissed at her and was probably going to call her therapist and tell her about being so spacey. It apparently didn’t matter that Max was nineteen and didn’t need her mother calling her therapist. Her only consolation was knowing that Dr. Stern couldn’t reveal any information about her progress (or lack of) to her mom.

 

* * *

 

 

When Max finally got to her university campus in Portland, it was raining. Heavy, round drops splattered down her neck immediately upon exiting her car. Tugging her jacket tighter around her middle, she ran up to the double doors of her dorm and swiped her student card to unlock them. She hurried up the stairs to her room, pulling out her cell. It had rang in the car and Max had let it go to voicemail since she was driving.

“ _You have one new voice message.”_ She shut the door to her room and peeled her wet jacket off onto the floor.

“Hello Max, this is Wendy Stern, and I wanted to call you to remind you of your group therapy meeting tomorrow night.” Max sighed loudly and rolled her eyes. “And before you try to think of ways to get out of it, I want you to remember that list we came up with about the positive effects from listening to other people’s experiences. This is a helpful recovery tool, remember? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 _Damn it!_ Why did she even put up with her sessions? Nothing was helping, and she wasn’t getting any better. She still felt just as broken as the day she’d escaped Jefferson. Max didn’t feel afraid of the Dark Room in her conscious mind (Jefferson was locked up anyway,) but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a decent night’s sleep.

The events of her day whirled around her head like a typhoon as she lazily stripped her clothes off and flopped onto her bed. Visiting Kate and Victoria had been the highlights of her trip, and even that had been stressful to get through. If only she were able to associate Arcadia Bay with something, anything else other than Chloe and the Dark Room. Everything was tainted, from the school, to the lighthouse, the junkyard, and the diner. Sometimes she thought about Frank Bowers, and if he had ever made it to L.A. like Rachel had wanted. He must have heard about Rachel’s death in the news and heard about Prescott’s connection to Jefferson. She hadn’t been able to meet him and tell him about Rachel being overdosed with drugs he provided to Nathan in this timeline, but hopefully he had figured it out from the news reports and gotten the hell out of town instead of continuing to sell drugs to high school kids.

Max had been nervous the whole day leading up to the group session. She’d almost called Dr. Stern four times to cancel with some lame-ass excuse, but was too embarrassed at the thought of facing her later. Dr. Stern was much too good at telling when Max was lying.

It had been strange moving to the city for college by herself. The university campus was beautiful and reminded Max of Blackwell in a way with its brick structures and creeping ivy. She often tried to embrace the tranquility, but found that the ugly images flashing behind her eyelids somewhat hindered her peace of mind.

The group session met in a rented room at the rec center by her university. Wendy Stern counseled many students who had specifically gone through stressful incidents, and often encouraged them to meet together in settings such as this to talk and “heal together” from their traumatic event.

 _What a crock of shit,_ Max thought bitterly as she pulled on the sleeves of her jacket. It was raining again as she crossed the parking lot shivering, wishing she had worn more layers to battle the weather. There was a hole in her sock that she could feel rainwater seeping into from the puddles in the asphalt.

The rec center was a large, concrete building with a high-ceilinged entrance. Wall-to-wall windows were nestled around the front door. It was late enough that there was nobody behind the welcome desk and the janitor was pushing her cart lazily across the tile. Max immediately spotted a row of numbered doors off to the right, on one of which Dr. Stern had pinned a note, welcoming her group.

She tried to arrange her expression into one less miserable as she pushed open the door. There was a gray folding card table to the side of the room, upon which rested pamphlets to upcoming Rec Center events and anonymous help groups, as well as a box of stale-ish looking donuts and coffee staying warm on a burner. Max tried not to focus on the ominous circle of chairs in the middle of the room. The session had not started yet; Dr. Stern was speaking in soft, encouraging tones to a couple of people that Max assumed were more of her patients. Most people were already in their chairs, but Max busied herself with cream and sugar, methodically adding one, then two splashes of creamer, focusing hard on tearing the sugar packet in a straight line. Anything to distract her.

Dr. Stern cleared her throat, gathering everyone’s attention to start the meeting. Max shuffled hesitantly to an open seat next to a girl with mousy, brown hair and a green sweatshirt who wouldn’t stop picking at some scabs on the inside of her forearm. Max tried not to look at anybody.

Wendy Stern was a short, curvy woman with brown curls and a soft voice. Some days it was soothing, perfect for a therapist, but most days it was grating, condescending almost. Max felt guilty thinking bad thoughts about her, she knew she was only doing her job.

“I am so glad that all of you are here tonight. My name is Wendy Stern for those of you that have received outside referrals here. I just know that this is going to be a positive, eye-opening experience for us all.”

Max couldn’t help but think how Chloe would laugh if she were here.

“This is going to be a night of sharing. You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to, I know it was a big step for some of you to be here today.”

 _Did she have to look so pointedly at me?_ Max could feel her face flush red. It felt like everybody was looking now.

“If you could just start with your first name, and then feel free to talk about anything that…” Max tuned her out and began to look around at the circle of chairs. There were only about sixteen people in the group. So many sad eyes, she thought to herself.

Her breath caught in her throat suddenly.

_No, it can’t be._

He was dressed in a black, long-sleeved shirt and faded jeans, tapping his foot nervously against the tile. His arms were crossed and his fingernails looked picked at and slightly bloody. A lock of hair fell on his forehead as he looked up and noticed her staring. How did she not notice him the second she came in the room?

 _Nathan Prescott_ was in her fucking group therapy?

 


	2. Chapter 2

_How is this even possible? How did he get here?_

Her mouth had fallen open involuntarily and some sort of embarrassing choking noise emitted from her throat.

“What’s that, Max?” Dr. Stern said kindly, turning her attention on her. “Why don’t we all listen to what Max has to share?”

_Oh, shit, no._ Of all the times for her to be so terribly misunderstood.

“I—I didn’t mean…” she trailed off uselessly. The whole room was staring at her now and her face felt hot. It was probably bright crimson. “I’m…”

Hot, acidic liquid bubbled up from her stomach and she raced from her chair into the hallway, frantically looking for a bathroom. By the time she burst into a stall, she couldn’t suppress it anymore and threw up right into the toilet, the fluorescent lights flickering above. When she was finished, she washed her hands and pressed some wet napkins to her sweaty forehead. How embarrassing. Could she have imagined Prescott’s face, just like she was always imagining Jefferson’s face in crowds and on the streets?

Max left the bathroom and hovered in front of the door to the group session, debating on whether or not she should go back in. If she didn’t, she could count on a call from Dr. Stern tomorrow, nagging her about unfinished “progress” and “potential healing tools.” She should just go in.

Max put her hand on the doorknob, and stopped. No, she didn’t have to prove anything. She lowered her hand and headed for the exit. _What are you so afraid of? Max Caulfield isn’t a coward._ She turned around and started to open the door, but a paralyzing fear gripped her heart and she released the door again, cursing as she walked back towards the exit.

She noticed a face through the large windows, watching her walk back and forth and back and forth through the hallway. It was Prescott, smoking a cigarette outside and watching her intently.

_Double shit!_ Max probably looked like a lunatic. Squaring her shoulders, she threw open the exit door. Screw this, she wasn’t staying, she didn’t care if she had to run past Prescott to get to her car.

“Hey.”

Max stopped dead in her tracks as he called her, his voice low and gravelly.

“She wanted to make sure you weren’t dying, or anything.” Nathan motioned towards the group session door. He looked almost thinner than before, if that was possible, his wiry frame resting against the building with his cigarette dangling from his hand. The smoke curled up around his mouth as he waited for her to answer.

“Clearly, I’m not.” Max answered more coldly than she intended to. Without waiting for him to reply, she spun on her heel to make a quick escape.

“What’s up your ass?”

“What did you say?

“I said, what is up your ass? You’ve been looking at me like I’m wielding a knife ever since you spotted me,” Nathan said evenly. More like wielding a gun, she thought to herself.

Max stared at him incredulously. Did he not remember her? They hadn’t exactly met formally in this timeline, but he had been around to witness Victoria’s constant hassling, not to mention the obvious bathroom incident. It had been her damn police report that had played as evidence against him.

“ _What_?” he asked angrily. She was still staring—his eyes were so intense and steely-looking. He squinted at her and his shoulders seemed to sink with realization. “…Max. Max Caulfield,” the recognition bloomed in his eyes, and Max could not read his expression past that. “The girl from the bathroom.”

Max shot him a look that she hoped would turn him to stone as she turned and hurried to her car, desperate to be anywhere but there.

 

* * *

 

That night, Max thought of different things. Nathan beating up Warren at Blackwell, threatening her over text message, sitting on top of Max’s desk with Victoria, laughing at her pictures. Nathan wouldn’t remember any of that, but Max sure did. The guy was seriously unhinged. Victoria would never know how tired Max got of listening to her gush about Nathan and how much she missed him, and how could he lie to Victoria like that? How the _fuck_ did he end up in _her_ city, in _her_ group session? She thought she’d never have to see Prescott’s weasel face ever again. The reason she left Arcadia Bay was to get away from this.

Max twisted in her sleep, the sheets on her bed jumbled up in a sweaty ball on her mattress. Jefferson was dragging her—down the stairs in the barn, across the dark room, up by the lighthouse, and into the junkyard where Rachel lay buried under the wet earth. A thousand shutter clicks and camera flashes blinded her eyes, and she could only feel Jefferson’s breath on her skin, against her face and neck.

Nathan was there this time, standing over her, piling thick soil over her legs with a golden shovel, glinting in the moonlight from the double moons in the night sky. _“Everyone used me,”_ he said sadly, burying his shovel into the ground to get a fresh scoop. Now her arms were covered, and she could feel the earthworms moving against her skin. _“He wants to hurt you next…Sorry.”_ Max couldn’t breathe, and there was dirt on her face, in her ears, under her eyelids, gritty against her teeth. She tried to scream, but it was caught in her throat and her eyes flew open as she was ripped from the dream with a start.

Breathing heavily, Max reached for her phone in the dark to see the time. _2:17 am._ She wiped the sticky hair from her forehead and fumbled for her water glass, only to knock it over accidentally. Taking more deep breaths, she willed her hands to stop shaking as she burrowed underneath her blankets, tucking herself into a tight ball and trying to drown out the sounds of the city street below her.

 

* * *

 

When Max woke up the next morning, the sun was casting shadows in such a way that she knew she’d overslept. Majorly.

There were two messages on her phone, one text and one voice. She opened the text message, which was from Kate:

_**KM:** Oh my gosh, did you see the news about that girl that went missing? Pray for her safe recovery._

Missing girl? Max shook her head and opened her voice message.

“Good morning Max, it’s Wendy Stern. I was hoping you would come back to the session last night, but it’s alright that you didn’t.” _Yeah, right,_ Max thought. “I won’t remind you again how important I think these groups would be for you, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts this Wednesday at our next appointment. If you need to talk about anything sooner, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

That was unlikely. Max got dressed and sat down at her laptop. She typed in ‘Arcadia Bay news’ into the search bar and chewed her fingernail while the options loaded. _Blackwell Student Goes Missing, Authorities Question Sean Prescott_ catches her eye, dated yesterday. Another Blackwell student? Max frowned as she skimmed the article and learned that a girl named Tracy Hernandez had been missing for two days, and she was last seen on Blackwell campus. It made sense that Sean Prescott was being questioned, he had been dealing with the backlash of his name on the construction receipts for Jefferson’s underground Dark Room. At least the police are going after the right people, Max thought to herself. If anyone in Arcadia Bay was a rat, it was Sean Prescott. 

Although she was late to her classes, Max finished up her internet browsing and headed off anyway. Better late than never. She ambled around like the undead, barely listening in any classes. She struggled with taking notes and began to wonder why she had bothered coming in the first place. All Max could focus on was the girl popping her gum noisily, the guy tapping his damn pen against the desk, and the crisp sound of the textbook pages being turned. All of her professors faded into muffled background noise as she thought of the girls that Nathan Prescott had drugged in Blackwell in the alternate timeline.

 

* * *

 

Two days later, Max found herself speeding down the highway towards Arcadia Bay. For the first time ever, she was glad she lived a mere two and a half hours away from her hometown. This time, it was actually useful.

Ever since Kate had texted Max about Tracy Hernandez, Max checked the news every day to see if she’d been found yet. The urgency seemed to increase with each passing day, and according to their reports, none of her friends were offering any helpful information. Another missing girl? What the hell could be going on? This was not the only reason Max was going back to the bay; she needed to grill Victoria about her little friend.

When Max had shown up at her appointment on Wednesday with Dr. Stern and informed her very pointedly that she couldn’t possibly be expected to attend group therapy sessions with the murderer of her best friend, she’d actually had the _audacity_ to remind her that Nathan had been acquitted, and asked her how it made her _feel_ to see Nathan again, and wouldn’t it be healthy to stop running from her past and have an open dialogue to attain eventual closure? An open fucking dialogue. Chloe would tell her to ditch this crazy shrink. Max knew therapists were supposed to ask you how stuff makes you feel but there was such a thing as tact and timing. Also, what kind of therapist overlooks a detail like “murderer and witness in same group” when accepting sign-ups for therapy?

She slowed the car down as she approached the beach where the hiking trail led up to the lighthouse. Not today, Max thought as she picked up speed.

The Two Whales Diner had a banner raised next to it that read “Save Tracy Hernandez.” Dozens of flyers and similar propaganda were strewn across the parking lots. Max even spotted “Save Tracy Hernandez” bumper stickers on a decent handful of nearby cars. It was on windows, mailboxes, and pickets at the street corner. Max couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

She pulled into the parking lot closest to Victoria’s dorm at the community college. She’d told Max to meet her at noon. On the other side of the quad, Max saw a rally being gathered. They had megaphones and signs about Tracy. Max heard through the megaphone that they planned to execute their own search parties and picket the police station for not finding Tracy fast enough.

Heading past some more students, she ducked into Victoria’s building and knocked on her door.

“Did you see that protest about Tracy Hernandez?” Max asked her once she had been invited inside.

“Are you kidding me? It’s a fucking zoo out there. It has been for days,” Victoria remarked, flopping heavily onto her bed.

“It’s all over town, _everybody_ is in on it,” Max remarked in disbelief. “When Rachel Amber went missing, most of the town couldn’t even remember her name! They all thought she ran away.”

“That’s just it, Max. Rachel Amber’s death was a big wake-up call,” Victoria said. She picked up a nail file and started working on a thumbnail. “Nobody was used to messed-up things happening here. Everyone was in denial the whole time, and then she turned out to be dead. I guess the town doesn’t want that to happen again.”

“It’s good that everyone’s taking it seriously. That’s the important thing,” Max remarked. “Did you know her?”

“Of course I didn’t know her, she’s just some random high school student. We don’t go to Blackwell anymore,” she said, stating the obvious.

“Point taken.”

Victoria raised a sculpted eyebrow. “You didn’t come all the way out here to talk about some missing girl from a town you don’t live in anymore.” It wasn’t a question.

“No,” Max admitted. “Not all of the reason, anyway. It’s about Nathan Prescott.”

Victoria had been lounging, an elbow propped on her windowsill above the bed, and a leg outstretched lazily. But now Max could see her tense up, and her neck was doing that craning thing that Victoria only did when she was very interested in something but trying not to let the other person know she was interested.

“Why do you want to talk about Nathan Prescott?” Victoria asked warily. Her fingers fumbled with a new pack of cigarettes. She was so distracted she hadn’t even bothered to pack them before opening the box, and barely noticed when loose tobacco flung out all over the bed as she lifted one out.

“You haven’t had _any_ contact with him at all since the trial? You don’t know the rehab facility he attended or when his parole started? Where he lives?”

“Why do you care about all that?” Victoria snapped defensively. “You know I haven’t talked to him at all. Why would I know all those private details?”

“I’m not trying to accuse you of anything, you don’t have to get mad. I just—I saw him the other night, and wondered if you knew anything about him living in Portland.”

Now Victoria’s eyes practically bugged out of her head. “You _saw_ him? In _Portland?_ ” She was still holding her lipstick-rimmed cigarette out the window, but it was now forgotten, the ash growing longer and longer on the end of it.

“Yes,” Max chose her words carefully. “I saw him at the group session my therapist made me come to.”

“What did he say? How did he look?” she demanded.

“He didn’t say anything—didn’t even recognize me at first. I left pretty quickly,” Max admitted. Why did she have to be so afraid of everything? The week she had discovered her rewind powers she had been fearless knowing that whatever mistakes she made could be undone. She had been careless, she thought bitterly. It was like a huge crutch had been yanked out from under her when she had refused to use her rewind powers after the fact. Every single action caused a reaction, just like Warren had told her, and now she had to face the consequences like everybody else. Max wasn’t going to be responsible for another eco-disaster. The price to stifle it had been too high.

Suddenly Victoria’s eyes narrowed. “First you ask me about Tracy, and then Nathan Prescott? You’d better not be suggesting what I think you are.”

“Well, the authorities _are_ questioning Sean Prescott. You can’t blame everyone for being cautious.”

“Hello, Nathan’s been in a fucking mental institution for the last year! He’s on parole, he clearly has nothing to do with this! You’re acting completely ridiculous.”

Victoria sure was getting defensive over somebody she hadn’t spoken to in months and months. She continued, “Sean Prescott may be evil, but I doubt he’s stupid enough to get involved in some abduction after what happened with Jefferson. Once the police began their investigation after Jefferson was arrested, the scrutiny pretty much ran the Prescott’s Pan Estates development into the ground. You should have seen all the tree-huggers dancing out in the street when construction was cancelled. Prescott’s kept a pretty low profile since then.”

Max remembered seeing all of the Pan Estates signs down by the beach, boasting some high-end housing developments and country club they planned on building to increase tourism. She wondered how the Prescotts were dealing with the defeat. Probably not well—Sean Prescott was a man used to getting what he wanted, and he had only been weeks away from breaking ground on the new construction site.

Victoria’s roommate, Madeleine, came into the room, interrupting the conversation. She had beads in her hair and was clad in a long, flowing skirt and brown sandals. Max wondered if she constituted as one of the “tree-huggers” that danced in the street when Pan Estates was canceled. Max had tried to introduce herself once (Victoria had skipped such social pleasantries) but had only gotten a curled lip and a vacant stare. Clearly Madeleine wanted as little to do with Victoria and her friends as possible.

“You’re not supposed to be smoking in here,” Madeleine said.

“Come off it!” Victoria snapped. “It’s going out the window. God.”

“Whatever. I only came in here for some books, anyway.”

“Nobody’s interested in a play-by-play, Madeleine.”

Max couldn’t help but wince at Victoria’s harsh attitude. “Do you have to be so mean?” she asked once Madeleine had stomped out.

“The feeling’s mutual, trust me. We can’t all get along with everyone, like you can.” She did not say this as a compliment. Victoria was clearly in one of her bitchier moods.

“I-I’ve got to go. I promised to meet Kate Marsh for tea.”

“Whatever.”

The café that Max met Kate in was small, with fake wood paneling and illustrated chalkboards displayed everywhere. There was a small platform in the corner with speakers and wires running across it for their live music and poetry performances in the evenings.

Kate was much more sympathetic to the missing Blackwell girl, and happily discussed everything that she knew. Unfortunately, it didn’t differ too much from what the papers all had to say.

Eventually Max steered the conversation towards Sean Prescott. “The whole town has got its eye on him,” Kate explained. “He doesn’t really show his face much. Pan Estates was a huge loss for him. You…you don’t really think he has something to do with this, do you?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Max admitted. She wasn’t even sure why she was so concerned, but it was nice to concentrate on problems other than her own for once.

“Her dad has offered all these rewards for any information about her. I feel so bad for him. His wife died a long time ago, and Tracy is all he has left.”

“She doesn’t have any brothers or sisters?”

“No, she’s an only child. I’m so glad the community is banding together to find her,” Kate said as she sipped her tea from a porcelain cup.

“Me, too.”

Max’s phone rang and she glimpsed the screen. _Victoria,_ it read. “Do you mind if I take this?”

“Not at all.” Kate had her books strewn out across the table and went back to studying as Max slipped outside to answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Look, I’m sorry for going all psycho on you when you asked about Nathan. The truth is…months ago I heard from the rumor mill that he was checked out of the rehab facility. I tried to call him for the first time, but it said his number had been disconnected. I felt like such chickenshit for waiting so long to contact him, there was no way I was going to ask his family for his number,” Victoria admitted. She seemed more willing to speak honestly over the phone, when she didn’t have to talk face-to-face. “It’s like he just…disappeared. I couldn’t even reach him through email or find him on social media.”

“It’s okay. I get it.”

“I should have been there for Nathan, I should have tried to figure out what was going on and found a way to help him.”

“That wasn’t your job, Victoria. He needed help from professionals.”

“I was his friend. I should have at least been there for him.” Her voice had taken on an edge again. Victoria seemed determined to place blame on herself, so Max did not continue to placate her. “Nobody else knew about the stuff he had to go through before all that messed-up shit with Jefferson. His dad used to like, _beat_ him. His parents ignored every warning his psychiatrist gave them, they were only interested in pumping him full of meds, just enough to keep him upright to undertake the family empire.”

Max flinched outwardly at the bluntness of Victoria’s words.

“If you see him again…can you tell him I’d like to talk?” Victoria’s voice crackled with static through the phone.

Max’s stomach twisted into a knot. She had no plans to seek out Nathan Prescott, but she agreed nonetheless.


	3. Chapter 3

It was Wednesday again. Max was back in Portland, sitting across from Dr. Stern in a faded armchair. She resisted the urge to pick at the threadbare fabric covering the arm of the chair. Dr. Stern was always quick to scrawl a little note on her clipboard whenever she caught Max fidgeting, like she was a puzzle to be dismantled and systematized.

“Isn’t there another group you can put me in?” Max pleaded. The doctor explained to her that she was preparing for a book tour and her time had been limited to one group session every other week. How wonderful for her.

“The best I can do is recommend a different group entirely, overseen by somebody else. He’s not exactly close by, but you would still get to interact with other witnesses and victims of violent behavior. It’s nice to be able to relate to somebody, you know.”

Max didn’t answer.

“How are the panic attacks?”

“Better,” she lied.

Dr. Stern didn’t believe her, but ended the inquiry with, “If you change your mind about the prescription, let me know. We can try different meds than last time. They could help quell your anxiety.”

Max nodded obediently, but knew she would never ask for the medication. She didn’t like pills and she didn’t like the thought of being drugged, like in the Dark Room. She had filled one of Dr. Stern’s prescriptions when she had first started coming to her appointments. The pills made Max’s head thick and foggy, and she was more tired than before. She had stopped taking them after a month, but ‘promised’ to discuss trying a new scrip in the near future. She had been more than patient with Max at this point.

“I’d like to talk about Arcadia Bay, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.” Max shrugged her shoulders.

“How did your last visit go? You hadn’t been back in an awfully long time.”

“It was mandatory. I was just visiting my parents.”

“You don’t like to see them?”

“I do, but they worry about me too often. Sometimes it feels like a chore to spend time with them.”

Dr. Stern nodded, scrunching up her face sympathetically.

“Your parents care very much about you. You’ve had a hard time.”

“I guess.”

There was a pause, and she wrote something down on her clipboard. “Did you visit the cemetery?”

“No.”

“Anything else you want to add?”

“No.”

Another pause. “I know it’s hard to face your fears, but can you accept that your lack of closure might be hindering your progress?”

There she went again with the ‘closure’ and the ‘progress.’ Max didn’t want to hear it.

When Max didn’t answer, she pressed on. “How are you sleeping at night?”

“The same.” No further explanation needed.

The doctor pursed her lips. Max was being difficult, and she knew it. Dr. Stern wouldn’t push her to say anything she didn’t want to, and she took advantage of the fact and stared out the window at the thick, gray clouds that blanketed the city.

 

* * *

 

Max sat in her car, her eyes fixed on the rec center through her water-spotted windshield. She had been given an out, Dr. Stern didn’t even expect her to be here.

The glowing clock on her dash told her that if she was going in to the meeting, she had to do it now.

She straightened the collar of her jacket and got out of the car, avoiding the deep puddles that had never dried up from last week’s rain.

When Max had checked the news that day she had been dismayed to find that another Blackwell student had gone missing as well. His name was Brian Mathers and he was a junior. There had been pleads from his parents in the news, and Max couldn’t handle it anymore. Some weird shit was happening in Arcadia Bay and she needed to find out more info. She had an uneasy feeling about it. Her mind burned with Jefferson’s black and white photos in the Dark Room. She couldn’t let that happen again.

Upon entering the same room from two weeks before, her heart was racing as she sat down in the nearest chair. Dr. Stern smiled at her. Most of the faces Max recognized from the last meeting. Nathan was nowhere to be seen.

Shit. What if he didn’t show up at all? Max had come for nothing.

The first person had just volunteered to speak, a guy in his late twenties with dreadlocks, introducing himself as Lionel. When the door swung open again, cutting Lionel off mid-sentence, everyone twisted around in their seats.

Nathan Prescott did not apologize for his interruption, only shrugged off his forest-green jacket and headed for his chair. Max stared openly, and didn’t know whether or not to be relieved when he didn’t glance at her a single time. Either he was oblivious, or he was _very_ good at controlling himself.

Max guessed oblivious.

She sat in her plastic chair for the next forty five minutes, unable to focus on a single word anyone was saying. Trying not to be too obvious, she continued to sneak looks over at Prescott. Before the rec center, the last time she had seen him had been outside the courthouse, when she had completely lost her cool and rushed at him. How embarrassing. The time before that there had been a gun clasped in his fingers, ending Chloe’s life with a bullet and a red puddle slowly creeping over the cracked linoleum. It was several minutes before she realized Nathan was jiggling his leg up and down, shaking his entire chair in agitation. She forced herself to look anywhere else in the room.

When it came to be Nathan’s turn to speak she held her breath in anticipation of what he might say, but he only waved his hand in an unmistakable gesture: _pass._

Max didn’t speak about anything either. When the meeting was over she bolted out of her chair like a scared rabbit, hoping to—hoping to what? Catch up to _Nathan Prescott_? All she knew was that he was heading for the door, and all she could think about was following him.

A cool hand caught hold of her arm. “Max,” Dr. Stern said, smiling at her. “I’m surprised but so glad you decided to join us again.”

_Come on, not now!_ “Uh, yeah, it was great. Are we still on for—”

“Did any of these stories resonate with you?” she asked Max.

She looked at the doorway to see Nathan had already disappeared through it. _Shit!_

“I’m sorry, I’m actually in a hurry. Can we talk about this during our next appointment?”

“I want you to feel like you can share here. It’s a safe space—”

_Blah, blah, blah! Was she kidding?_

“Sounds great,” Max said distractedly, craning her neck around two tall ladies blocking the way. “I’ll see you then.”

Max moved quickly away from Dr. Stern and pushed past the remaining stragglers in the room exchanging niceties.

She practically barreled through the double doors in the front of the building, immediately chilled from the sudden drop in temperature. Rubbing her hands together, she spotted Prescott leaning against a nearby wall, smoke streaming from his mouth as it dissipated into the night air. Her stomach did a strange flip-flop.

“Well. What the fuck do you want?” he surprised her when he spoke suddenly.

She hesitated, unsure how to begin.

“You’ve been staring at me for the entirety of that meeting.” He lowered his steely gaze at her. “So what the fuck do you have to say?”

Max swallowed a lump in her throat. “Victoria,” she said, blurting the first thing that came to her head. “She wanted you to know she’s trying to reach you.”

He pondered this, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “I remember you, you know. Max Caulfield. You and Victoria weren’t exactly friends. And by ‘weren’t exactly,’ I mean you both hated each other. Try again.”

Max felt her face flush with anger at his condescending tone. “We never hated each other. We hung out—” she stopped herself. “You know what? I don’t have to explain myself to _you_ of all people. If you don’t want to believe me, that’s your own problem!”

“And there it is,” he responded coldly. “’to me of all people.’ Don’t hold back, Caulfield. Unleash your fury. I’m sure you’ve been waiting for this opportunity for a long time.”

“I didn’t come here to bare my soul to you or anything, so you can just save your breath.” Max held her palm out at him. She had little patience for his bullshit. “Victoria actually is looking for you. You should have seen her face when I told her you were here.”

Now she really had his attention. The intensity of his gaze was so great that she was finding she had a hard time standing still under the scrutiny. She felt like she was giving something of herself away the longer he looked at her.

“You really told Victoria I was here?” Nathan’s voice was low, she could not decipher his tone.

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?” she snapped. She was starting to get uncomfortable. Reaching into her camera bag, she pulled out a pen and ripped off a corner of some random flyer on the bulletin board next to her. “Look, if you don’t want to call her, then whatever, but she wants to hear from you.”

She scrawled Victoria’s digits across the torn paper and shoved it at Nathan, extending her arm all the way out so she could stand as far away as possible. The muscles in his jaw were tight as he ground out his cigarette underneath his shoe and stared in disbelief at the phone number.

“This is…” he trailed off.

“Victoria’s phone number?”

“Oh,” he said in surprise. “Right.”

“Whose number did you think it was?”

He didn’t answer, just slid another cigarette out of his pack and lit it, shielding his lighter from the cold wind. Damn, he could give Victoria a run for her money with how much he smoked. Disgusting.

“Why are you here?” Max said before she could stop herself.

“Excuse me?”

“Out of all the places you could be, I mean…”

He let out smoke in an angry huff. “You think you’re the only Blackwell student that looked at colleges in Portland? You’re fucking high. I’m not stalking you, I’m just going to school next door.”

_Nathan Prescott goes to my school,_ Max thought distantly. “How come you’re just leaning against this building? Don’t you have a car?” Max asked.

“You ask a lot of damn questions.” Nathan glared at her. “I was under the impression we were have a conversation, excuse the fuck out of me.” He dropped his cigarette even though there was still half of it left and didn’t even step on it as he pushed off of the wall, walking forcefully past Max.

“Do you know anything about the missing students in Arcadia Bay?” Max called out after him. _Shit, why did you do that? You’re just going to piss him off._ She couldn’t help herself, this could be her only chance to ask him.

Nathan’s shoulders immediately tightened and he turned to look at her with a fierce expression. “Where do you get off asking me something like that?” his voice had gone dangerously low again.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she fumbled, truly regretting blurting it out like that.

“You have _no_ idea the hours I spent locked up in there trying to get better, and paying for what I did!” His eyes blazed. “I went from one stark, white room to another. I paid my time. That time is _over._ You don’t know what it’s like to grow up being told you’re fucking crazy in the head and would you _stop looking at me like that?”_

She had involuntarily taken three steps backwards at his outburst. “Like what?” Max had no problem standing her ground previously but his eyes looked wilder now, his voice raised several octaves.

“Like I’m gonna…” he stopped, stretching out his fingers in utter frustration. He seemed unable to keep his hands still, which would explain the chain-smoking.

“I’m sorry,” she insisted hastily. “I only said something because I know your dad was under investigation and if you knew something that could help, then—”

“If you don’t listen to a word I say tonight then at least listen to this: stay the fuck away from Sean Prescott.”

 

* * *

 

Their conversation ended rather abruptly after that. He had strode away angrily, leaving Max to hurry back to her car, her breaths coming out in little white puffs in the cold.

He had completely overreacted. What an ass! Max also decided that she apologized much too quickly.

For some reason, an odd feeling of guilt burned in her chest, as if Victoria was actually right there, scolding her once again for being too harsh about Nathan. Unwillingly, she heard the words from his voicemail in the alternate timeline, right before Jefferson had killed him. _I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt Kate or Rachel…I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Everyone used me._

Max had never forgotten the despair in his voice. That didn’t excuse him of anything, she convinced herself, trying to stand her ground.

“Max! Wake up, please.” Her head jerked up from her notebook to her art professor pointing his whiteboard marker at her.  

“Sorry.” She made random scribbles in her notebook to make it look like she was taking notes. None of this was new, her classes had become excruciating to sit through. Her mind was always racing in a thousand directions, she had lost every bit of her equanimity in the past two weeks.

More often Max was wondering if she shouldn’t try out another one of Dr. Stern’s medications. They just helped to balance the chemicals in her brain, right? Lots of people had some sort of chemical imbalance at one point or another. Maybe Max was just overestimating her ability to cope with it herself. Avoiding all of her problems certainly hadn’t been working too well for her.

The only thing that proved to be a viable distraction was following up on Tracy and Brian. Max was able to find a few stories that had been covered by the local station about the rallies and search parties. As she scrolled through her phone in class, the screen flashed images of angry people gathering with signs and enlarged posters of their faces. _People are getting really worked up about this. I should go check this out myself,_ she thought. Max reached to the floor to pick up her camera bag and stood up without thinking any further.

“What is it now, Max?” the professor said, an edge of irritation creeping into his voice.

“I…have to use the restroom. That’s all,” she lied, climbing over the legs of the other students to reach the door. Once she was in her car she checked a text message. It was from Warren this time.

**_WG:_ ** _Call me tonight?_

Max threw her phone down onto the passenger seat and cranked the heater as she pulled into traffic, following the highway to Arcadia Bay. She’d get back to him.

 

* * *

 

The girl Max was looking for was named Hannah Livingston. She was a senior and went to Blackwell. Max had seen a clip of her interview in a video that the news station uploaded. Hannah wouldn’t be hard to spot; her hair was colored a neon orange. Max thought it resembled a traffic cone. She was sitting on the fountain in the quad in front of Blackwell, hoping to catch a glimpse of Hannah and hoping she wasn’t too creepy for staking out high schoolers.

When Max saw Hannah coming out of the building, she headed over to her. Her neon hair was in two pigtails.

“Hannah, right?” Max asked.

“Yeah…”

“I’m Max. I was wondering about Tracy Hernandez, you knew her, right?”

“Do you go here?” Hannah asked warily.

“I used to, last year. I know you already talked about her, but can you tell me anything else that you can remember?”

“That’s weird,” the girl said bluntly. “Why?”

Max honestly didn’t have a good answer for her that didn’t involve a ten-minute monologue. “It’s complicated. Do you know anything about Sean Prescott?”

“Uh-uh. Only that he was pissed about not being able to build his condos.” Hannah shook her head.

“Did Tracy know Sean Prescott?”

“No. She was getting around this semester for sure, but I don’t think she was getting that far around, you know what I mean?”

Max did not. “It was unusual for her to…get around?”

“Tracy grew up really sheltered. Her dad was super overprotective and she didn’t get out much when I first met her. This year she was feeling pretty rebellious and pent up. She kinda went wild, going to all these parties and hooking up with guys and stuff. It’s really scary that she’s missing. She wasn’t _that_ much of a troublemaker, you know?”

“Can you remember some of the new people she was hanging out with?”

“No, it was just random flings.”

“Did you know Brian Mathers?”

“No. Different circle. His friends are always at that table,” Hannah said, pointing.

Max waved thanks and made her way over to the table. Three guys in jeans and hoodies looked up at her.

“Hey,” Max lifted her hand in greeting. “I’m Max, and I used to go here. Hannah Livingston said you guys know Brian Mathers?”

They exchanged glances before one with short, spiky black hair answered. “Yeah. He’s probably just playing a joke, I don't think he's really missing. He liked drawing attention to himself like this.”

“Why are you looking for Brian?” another one asked.

“I...went through something similar. I’m just trying to find anything that will help.” Max shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, there was nothing out of the ordinary. He just dipped out.”

“Did Brian know Sean Prescott?”

“No way,” the first guy said, letting out obnoxious guffaws.

They were no help at all. Not knowing who else to talk to, Max went to the Two Whales. Joyce was happy to see her, and Max felt more guilt over blowing her off the other day. She ordered coffee and sat at the counter. Her phone beeped at her, alerting her to the extremely drained battery.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to stop by that day. It’s been really weird coming back,” Max said, wrapping her hands around her warm mug.

“I understand, Max. You don’t have to apologize,” Joyce smiled at her as she refilled somebody’s coffee cup three seats down.

“How is David doing?”

“He’s fine, only a bit frustrated. These missing kids at the school have him just torn up. He was rejected last year when he suggested the school install security cameras all over the campus, and he keeps saying that this all could have been avoided.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Well, we’re all shook up from this. Arcadia Bay doesn’t need any more missing kids,” she said sadly. Max could tell she was thinking about Chloe.

“I’ve heard rumors about Sean Prescott being involved,” Max said.

“You don’t say? I saw what they wrote in the paper, but I didn’t think they’ve found any evidence.”

“You haven’t heard anything else?”

“Nope, sorry.”

The trip had been a total waste. Max had chatted to Joyce about her university, left some money on the counter for her coffee, and scanned the parking lot for photos to take before she headed to see Victoria. She wanted to see if she knew anything else about Sean Prescott. She used to be Nathan’s best friend, after all.

 

* * *

 

Max didn’t remember that her phone had died until the next morning. She had gotten home so late after hanging out with Victoria she’d crashed immediately upon arriving. Pressing the little button on her phone to turn it on, Max stretched her arms above her head and rolled her stiff shoulders. She straightened out her blankets and sheets before picking her phone back up.

She had a single question mark in a text from Warren, and three missed calls from an unknown number. Damn, she’d forgotten to call Warren. Could he have been trying to reach her from a different number? Why wouldn’t he have just used his cell?

After showering and changing clothes, Max took a second to pick the dirty laundry up off her floor and stuff it into the laundry hamper. It was the first time all week she had gotten up early enough to be on time to her first class.

Getting a bagel out of the mini-fridge in her dorm, she smeared cream cheese in it and grabbed her bag. Moving quickly down the steps and down the sidewalk, she would have bumped square into Nathan Prescott if she hadn’t looked up at the last second.

Max halted her feet and looked up at Nathan with an expression she was sure was akin to a deer in headlights.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked him.

“What were _you_ doing poking around in Arcadia Bay?” he retorted.

Max hesitated. How could he possibly know that? She matched his defiant stare. “There’s no law that says I can’t visit my hometown.”

“No, but there’s going to be a pissed-off mogul sending people after you if you don’t quit asking questions about him.”

“Y-your dad sent you to come threaten me?”

“Of course not,” he snapped. “He called to give me an earful about how awfully coincidental it was that a girl from my school just _happened_ to be asking a lot of nosy questions about him around town. Said I had better keep my mouth shut,” he muttered under his breath.

“Keep your mouth shut?” Max repeated. “About what?”

“This is what I’m talking about, Caulfield! Drop it, he doesn’t have anything to do with these missing kids.” Nathan’s hands were moving again—slight twitches that he tried to hide in his pocket. He reached with his left hand for his cigarettes but stopped halfway, thinking better of it.

“If you have some sort of information on your dad, you should tell me. Don’t you want those kids to be found?”

“Who the fuck died and made you head of the case?” he snapped. Now he did pull out a cigarette, cupping his hand around the lighter as the flame licked the end. “None of this is your business.”

“And I’m supposed to ignore the fact that he has creepy minions dispersed throughout the town listening for people talking about him? And why are you even outside my dorm? How did you know I lived in this building?”

Nathan exhaled a plume of smoke and sat down on a bench nearby. Max did not feel like sitting. “Amazing what you can find on the internet. You struck me as a girl who pays better attention in person than over the phone.”

Max suddenly wondered if he had been the one to call her from those unknown numbers. “I don’t believe you for a second. There’s something else going on, I know it.”

Now he was starting to get annoyed again. His leg began to move seemingly of its own accord, shaking up and down. “You’re one stubborn bitch, you know that? Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Why are you acting like the cops are gonna find my body in a dumpster somewhere? Is there something going on that I need to know about? This is serious.”

“No! God, you just never shut up,” he claimed in exasperation.

“Will you put that out, already?” she demanded, swiping at yet another curl of cigarette smoke that had drifted into her face. To her surprise he only curled his lip in disgust and let it fall to the ground where he crushed it underfoot.

A few seconds passed and neither one of them said anything. Max couldn’t help but notice that the purple rims around his eyes almost matched hers. It looked like Nathan Prescott wasn’t getting much sleep, either. She glanced at the screen of her cell phone. So much for making it to class on time. At least it was a consistent week.

“Don’t come by here again. You can tell your dad to mind _his_ business.”

She hoped the words sound braver than she felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was reading about Nathan on the lis wikia and under his personality they had these suggestions of Restless Leg Syndrome and random twitches that came as side-effects from the Risperidone that Nathan takes, and it really gave me some inspiration for his character. I hope it worked okay! Thank you for reading :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and leaving comments on my first day, everyone is really welcoming here! :)  
> 

“You talked to Nathan?” Victoria cried in outrage. “We sat there and talked the whole afternoon and you never said one thing.”

It was the weekend, and Victoria had driven to see Max this time. Victoria had purposely dressed up, knowing that she got to pick whatever up-and-coming establishment they dined at. Victoria loved it in Portland. Chloe would have loved it, too.

“Don’t be mad, I was just freaked out. I did give him your number, though.”

“He has my number?” Victoria said after hesitating a beat too long.

_Said the wrong thing again. Sure you don’t want to use your rewind?_

“I’m sure he’s just leading up to calling you,” Max assured her.

“Right. Whatever. I guess I can’t blame him, I did blow him off for an entire year.”

“You didn’t blow him off. He was in a hospital. Give yourself some credit. It was a fucked up time.”

“Stop being nice to me, I’m sick of it,” Victoria announced. They were sitting outside at a small, round table with two chairs under an umbrella. The sun was covered up by the clouds, but at least it was warming up enough for them to sit outside.

“I think I really, really pissed him off the other day,” Max confessed. She couldn’t put a finger on why it was bothering her so much.

“Honestly, unless he was throwing things, I wouldn’t look too much into it,” Victoria said. She dunked one of her manicured fingernails into her soda and stirred the ice around. “I was closer to him than anybody, and I pissed him off like, every other day. He’s easy to anger, but he also gets over it quickly for the most part.”

“I’m freaked out, Victoria. Apparently Sean Prescott found out that I was asking questions about him during my last visit to the Bay. Nathan showed up _outside_ my building to tell me to back off. Felt like high school all over again,” Max muttered to herself, thinking of Nathan sending her threatening text messages and trashing her room.

Victoria’s eyebrows wrinkled. “Nothing like this ever happened in high school.”

_Shit!_ That had been in the other timeline, she had to be more careful. “I just meant, uh, general drama, you know? Anyway, it was totally creepy how he tracked me down to my dorms.”

“But he warned you about his dad getting angry,” Victoria said pointedly. “If anything, he was trying to do you a favor, Max. He’s not as big of a shithead as you think he is.”

Max shrugged. She took out her camera and aimed it up at the sky, hoping to capture the tops of the structures and the edge of their umbrella in the photo. _Click._

“I think the obvious solution is to just drop the whole Sean Prescott thing. Can we go back to your dorm now?”

“You just want to blaze up in there.”

“Duh. You don’t have a roommate. Mine’s home all weekend. I’ll open your window so you don’t have to bitch.”

“Whatthefuckever.” Max said this in so perfect an imitation of Nathan that Victoria ended up with her nose full of soda.

 

* * *

 

After Victoria had headed back to the Bay a couple hours later, Max pinned her Polaroids up on the wall: Kate’s bunny, Kate’s violin, the neon sign at the Two Whales, and the rolling silver clouds above their heads at the café in Portland. She tilted her head to the side as she studied them. Up until now, she hadn’t felt very connected to many of the photos she’d taken. Maybe she had to be in a better mood for her photos to give a true reflection of herself.

Her phone began to buzz on the nightstand. The screen flashed _Warren._

“Hello?”

“There you are. I was starting to wonder if you’d died. You didn’t respond to any of my texts.”

“I’m so sorry, Warren. Surprisingly, this has been a rather strange couple of weeks. I meant to call you.”

After they had graduated, Warren had been accepted into Brown. Now he lived in Rhode Island, and Max was finding it was difficult to keep in touch.

“What’s kept you so busy?” he asked.

“Honestly…I went back to Arcadia Bay,” she let out in a rush. “And there’s something weird going on with Sean Prescott and these two missing teenagers from Blackwell. It’s happening all over again and Nathan told me to quit asking questions—”

“Whoa, slow down, Mad Max! Did you say Nathan? As in Prescott?”

“Yeah. He goes to my school. I ran into him recently. He…says his dad isn’t involved with the missing people.”

“He _would_ say that, the spoiled, rich druggie. I’ve always wanted to kick that guy’s ass,” Warren admitted. Max wasn’t going to tell him that in an alternate universe, he had. Max had been impressed by his bravery, but she didn’t really condone violence on a whole. Warren let out a breath of air. “So the prodigal daughter returns to the Bay, huh? How did that go?”

“You know, same old Arcadia Bay. I kind of wished it had changed, even a little bit. It might have made it easier.” Max flopped backwards onto her bed, staring at the string of lights on her ceiling. Her phone buzzed in her hand, alerting her to a text. She would check it later.

“I wish I could be there for you,” Warren said wistfully. “I don’t like the idea of you being in contact with Nathan.”

“It’s okay. It would even be nice to hang out with you at Brown. Tell me what’s been going on over there. Don’t leave anything out.”

She and Warren talked for ten minutes more, and when they hung up Max checked her text. It was from Victoria.

**_VC:_ ** _Thanks for giving Nathan my #_

**_MC:_ ** _Did he finally call you?_

**_VC:_ ** _Yeah. It was awkward, but nice._

**_MC:_ ** _That’s great that he got in touch with you._

**_VC:_ ** _He says he’s gonna drive down and visit me._

Five minutes passed before Victoria sent another text.

**_VC:_** _Think you could come too? It might be less awkward w you there. Cuz u already saw him in person, you know?_

Max bit her lip. Why the hell was Victoria so nervous about seeing Nathan again? They used to be best friends. Surely she didn’t need Max there. Hesitantly, she typed a response.

**_MC:_** _Sorry, V. I’m really backed up in my classes, can’t make another trip to AB._ She swallowed. It wasn’t a lie, she _was_ behind in class, but that wasn’t the reason for staying away.

Victoria didn’t answer.

_So she’s pissed at me, what else is new?_ Max stretched her arms and settled at her desk, pulling out all of her neglected textbooks and stacking them next to her. She was in for a long night of studying. Two different teachers now had held her up after class to express their concern at her many absences and plummeting grades. There were some exams coming up, and Max had to be prepared for them.

 

* * *

 

Max was in the university library studying on Thursday afternoon after classes were over. The girls in her dorm were getting especially rowdy, playing music in the hall and preparing for some kegger everyone was talking about. She’d had to move to someplace quieter. After telling Warren she was behind in classwork, he had helpfully emailed her a bunch of his notes on some of the subjects he had already taken. She’d printed out the pages and stuffed them between the pages of her textbooks as she gathered everything under her arm and began the trek across campus.

She was just starting to fall into a routine when her phone chirped gleefully at her. A couple of students looked up from their books in irritation. Oops, she had forgotten to switch her phone to vibrate.

**_Unknown:_** _u weren’t at group yesterday._

Max stared at the screen. It was not phrased as a question.

**_MC:_ ** _Who is this?_

**_Unknown:_ ** _who do u think? moron. vic said ur still looking into those kids_

Max’s face flushed involuntarily at the thought of Victoria and Nathan discussing her. She was happy for Victoria for reuniting with one of her old friends, but wouldn’t be for too much longer if she kept spilling secrets to Nathan Prescott.

**_MC:_** _Now who’s not minding their own business?_ Her fingers shook angrily as she typed.

**_NP:_ ** _caulfield i s2g if u dont stay out of it…_

Max rolled her eyes. If he thought he was going to intimidate her over a text message, he had another thing coming.

**_MC:_ ** _You’ll what? Send your dad’s goons after me? I don’t like being threatened, Prescott._

**_NP:_ ** _oh get fucked_

Max set her phone down in a huff. So childish. She shook her head as if to shake him right out of her mind and stared down at her books again. Damn it, she couldn’t concentrate. Taking a pair of earbuds out of her bag, she stuffed them into her ears and shifted in her chair, trying to get comfortable. People were starting to look over at her again for making too much noise.

She turned up the music and tried to fall back into her books, which is why it was especially irritating when her phone buzzed _again._ This time, he could fuck off. She purposely ignored it, burying her face in a book and rereading the same paragraph over and over again.

On the second buzz she couldn’t resist sliding her thumb across the screen to read the messages.

**_NP:_ ** _come 2 the parking lot._

**_NP:_ ** _caulfield. parking lot by dorms._

Max was confused. Hell no, she wasn’t going to meet him by the dorms. Another text came.

**_NP:_ ** _dont ignore me_

**_MC:_** _I’m busy!_ _Not at dorms, I’m in the library._

**_NP:_ ** _fine see u there_

No! Max had not meant that as an invitation. Nevertheless, her stomach began to flip-flop at the thought of him coming. She bit her lip, nervous. Should she just ignore him?

**_NP:_ ** _fucking hell caulfield. hurry up_

Feeling like she had no choice, Max stuffed all of her books into her bag and pushed her chair back, wincing at the scuffing noise the legs made against the hardwood. Ignoring more cross expressions, she made her way through the shelves and back to the entrance. She walked down the three concrete steps and spotted his red truck idling in the parking lot nearby.

When she approached the vehicle she stared at him stupidly through the passenger window for a second. Nathan didn’t look at her, only pushed the unlock button and stared at his windshield. She took this as a cue to get in.

There was no music playing, and for once he thankfully wasn’t smoking. His leg was moving back and forth again. The inside of the truck was pretty sweet with a touch-screen stereo deck and leather seats. Nathan didn’t appear to care very much about keeping it clean, though. The floorboards were littered with receipts and empty fast food bags, and the ashtray was full to bursting with cigarette butts and cone filter stubs.

“What do you need that’s so important?” she asked him.

“I’m asking you one more time to back out of this. I don’t know why you’re so dead-set on playing detective, but it’s not cute.”

“Wow, are you actually begging?”

“I don’t beg. I’m trying to appeal rationally to you.”

Max crossed her arms defiantly. “You’ve given me no reason to trust you. As far as I’m concerned, both you and your father’s behavior is extremely suspicious and is only convincing me that you’re hiding something. If that’s all, then I need to get back—”

Nathan’s irritated grunt cut her off mid-sentence. Max had her hand on the latch, ready to abandon his truck when Nathan raked his fingers through his hair, the shaking in his leg intensifying.

“Look, he is hiding something, but it’s not what you think!” he ground out angrily.

“What is it?”

“You are so fucking nosy, Caulfield!” he sighed deeply. “My dad was...involved with Tracy before she disappeared. He’s acting so sketchy because he doesn’t want anyone to find out.”

“Involved?” Max repeated. “If he is innocent like you insist, why doesn’t he want anyone to find out about it?”

“You’re so naïve. They were _fucking._ If the cops catch wind they’ll try to pin it on him for sure.”

Max blinked rapidly. She couldn’t help it. “I don’t…I don’t believe you.”

“Yeah, I thought you might say that.”

“How do even you know about this?”

“I found this on my little visit to Arcadia Bay.” Nathan tossed a photo on the seat between them. It looked like a screenshot taken from a home surveillance tape. “My dad’s got cameras all through the house. I printed this out in case you didn’t believe me.”

The picture was kind of blurry, but Max could make out Sean Prescott and Tracy Hernandez in a large bedroom. Max recognized her face from the Missing posters. Sean had his hands on her shoulders as she slipped out of her coat.

“That doesn’t prove any—”

Before Max could finish he wordlessly laid another picture down on the seat. Sean and Tracy were in an intimate-looking embrace, his lips on hers.

“The police need to see this!” Max said.

“Fuck, no!”

“Why not?”

He tensed in his seat. “Because I don’t have a fucking death wish. I told you, he doesn’t have anything to do with her disappearance. I just wanted you to see the reason you’re being threatened. He doesn’t want anybody to find out about them.”

“If you thought showing me these pictures would convince me that he’s innocent, you’re high,” she said with a laugh.

“I’m always high. My father isn’t somebody you want to mess with.”

“Why do you even care what happens to me?”

“I don’t,” he snapped. “Listen or not, makes no fucking difference to me.”

“Does he know you have access to this footage?” Max asked, nodding towards the pictures.

He let out an ugly scoff. “I’d have the living shit beaten out of me in two heartbeats if he knew I had even come near his cam footage.”

“Why are you so eager to protect him, then? Why not just send these to the cops and let him fry? You don’t seem to hold a very high opinion of him,” Max remarked.

Nathan was picking at a hangnail to disguise a tremor in his hand. “It’s not that simple, okay? Just stay out of it. Not everything is so black and white.”

“Does your mom or Kristine know anything about this?” she asked, thinking for a moment of their family. She wouldn’t know how to react if she ever found out her dad had cheated on her mom.

She said the wrong thing. “How do you know about Kristine?” That low voice was back. He was easier to read in high school, back when he would just shout at the world whenever he didn’t like something. Now he was a closed book, a solid brick wall that Max could not see around.

Nathan would not know that Max had once snuck into his dorm room at Blackwell when she and Chloe were gathering information for their search for Rachel Amber in the alternate timeline. She had snooped on his computer and seen an email from his older sister. It was not a detail that Max should have let slip. _Damn it!_

“Victoria told me,” she lied, trying to keep the waver out of her voice. Shit, her ears felt hot. They only did that when there was blood rushing to them. Her flush always gave her away. She began to fidget as he stared her down. Why did he always look so intense?

“I-I have to go. See ya.”

He said nothing as she climbed out of the truck and hurried away.

 

* * *

 

The moon illuminated the night sky as Max crept silently through the trees, the edge of the rickety barn roof peeking out through a clump of forest. Once Prescott had shown her those pictures, Max was convinced more than ever that Sean had something to do with Tracy’s mysterious vanishing act. She hoped more than anything that Tracy was still alive.

Max had driven almost immediately to Arcadia Bay, heading straight for Jefferson’s old dark room, figuring that she might find something useful to help her. After all, the Prescotts owned the barn and had paid for the underground room to be constructed. Just to be safe, she’d parked her car much further away, and proceeded to the farmhouse on foot to spec the place out. If there were any vehicles out front, she would have to change her tactic.

Nobody appeared to be there, and after a quick inspection of the ground for tire marks, it didn’t look like anyone had been there in a long time. It looked the same, unkempt with piles of lumber and rusted metal scraps gathered around the barn. She went around to the side of the structure to see if she could still move the loose piece of sheet metal to sneak inside. _Yes!_ It moved away just as easily as before, and Max crouched through the opening.

It was considerably darker inside, with only faint moonbeams peeking through the slats in the wooden rafters overhead. The strong must of old hay filled her nostrils. She sneezed from the dust. Max pulled out her phone to light up the room. It was wide open with unused bales of hay stacked in the corners, old tool chests and an ancient, rusted tractor that looked like it hadn’t moved since the forties. Moving easily through the barn with the aid of her phone light, she walked around the haystacks to the spot in the floor with the padlock leading to the basement stairs.

She froze. The padlocked hatch was gone. There was no door at all. Somebody had completely cemented it over. She walked around, examining it from all angles. There was no way anyone could access that dark room even if they wanted to. Her heart sank as she realized Tracy was not here. It had been kind of a long shot.

Max climbed back out of the opening in the side of the farmhouse and a chorus of crickets greeted her. An owl sounded somewhere nearby.

“Satisfied now?”

Max let out a little shriek and jumped half a foot in the air, every muscle in her body tensed and ready for action. She couldn’t help it. Finding Nathan Prescott casually leaning against the ramshackle wooden fence in the dark had been too much for her to handle.

“Nathan, what the fuck! You scared the _piss_ out of me,” she cried vehemently. Max could have sworn the bastard actually smirked at her.

“I said, are you satisfied that my dad has nothing to do with it now?”

She clutched her chest, willing her heart to stop racing. A lesser boy would have crumpled under the poisonous stare she shot at him like a dart. Because it was Nathan Prescott, he wasn’t fazed. “Did you follow me here?” she demanded.

“Yes, and I hope you’re aware you’re trespassing. You better be nicer to me, or I could have you arrested.”

Max froze for a second until she noticed the ghost of a smile lingering on his features. He was _teasing_ her. Nathan Prescott was making a joke. Unbelievable. Scaring the living shit out of Max had really put him in a good mood.

Seeing the expression on her face, he continued. “Come on. I saw the way you reacted to those pictures. You are so easy to read, Caulfield. Though I am surprised you drove out here the very same day. You have got some fucking dedication.”

“Oh, fuck off!” she yelled as she stalked past him. She was furious.

“You are _so_ touchy,” he remarked, following behind on her heels. “I would have pissed you off way sooner if I knew it was gonna be this fun.”

Max whirled on him. She wanted so badly to just sink her fist in his stomach.

“Can’t you just take this seriously? Two people are missing. Is that a big joke to you?”

He looked bored, but he still pulled a crumpled cigarette pack from his jacket pocket and placed one between his teeth. “Of course it’s not a joke. I tried to be serious earlier with you and _you’re_ the one who didn’t take it seriously. Obviously you didn’t if you’re here, still sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. Shit.” Nathan patted down his pockets. “You got a light?”

“No, I don’t have a light!” Max answered, her voice dripping with disdain. “Guess you better go back to your truck.” She was glad he had a reason to leave. Footsteps sinking heavily in the soft earth, Max began her trek back through the woods to her car. To her utter disappointment, he followed her right into the trees.

“So, uh, what are you going to do next?”

“Even if I had a plan I wouldn’t tell you about it.” She risked a sideways glance at him. He was wearing a black jacket and Max couldn’t tell in the dark, but she was willing to bet his jeans were designer, just like Victoria’s always were. They really were two peas in a pod. He had a single earbud in one ear, the other dangling uselessly down the front of his shirt. He had put the cigarette away, being unable to locate a lighter. Nathan had seemingly disappeared from existence for so long, and now he was everywhere. Why did he always seem to be around?

By the time Max reached her car, nobody had spoken in minutes. She noticed his red pickup parked behind her car.

“I want you to stop following me.”

“Then don’t give me a reason to follow,” he said coldly.

“I’ll let you get back to your whale songs,” she said cattily, motioning to the earbuds around his neck. The look he gave Max was startled, to say the very least. He looked unsettled. Max couldn’t resist. She’d had to even out the scoreboard just a little. She wanted just one thing to hold over his head after looking so foolish in front of him: _Max knew things she wasn’t supposed to know_.

The confused and shocked expression on his face being her only consolation of the night, Max settled into her car and started the engine, leaving Nathan Prescott behind her.

She sent a text to Victoria.

**MC _:_** _In the bay, you at your dorm?_

**VC:** _yes, for the love of god get over here. so booooored_

**MC:** _otw_

**VC:** _don’t bother coming in. roommate just landed._

Max sent another text when she pulled into the cramped parking lot outside Victoria’s dorm. Within seconds, her passenger door opened and Victoria slid into the front seat, shivering.

“Turn the heat up, will you? I thought it was supposed to be warming up outside!” Victoria rubbed her hands together and held them in front of the vents as Max adjusted the temperature. “I was hanging out with Taylor earlier and once she left Madeleine came back and I’ve just been so bored all day.”

Victoria pulled out a joint neatly twisted at one end. “Want some?”  

Max wrinkled her nose. “Do not light that in here. It’ll totally stink up my car.”

“I’ll roll down the window,” Victoria insisted.

“I’m serious.”

“Whatever,” she said with a sniff. She put the joint back in the little zipper pocket meant for change on her clutch purse. “So where’s the party this weekend? I can’t spend another Saturday night sitting at another lame kickback in Arcadia Bay. The Vortex Club threw better parties than these socially challenged freshmen. Come on, there’s got to be something going on in Portland this weekend, spill.”

“I don’t really know, Victoria. I don’t pay attention to that stuff,” she answered honestly.

“I am _itching_ for a good party. Good thing the semester’s almost over. Why’d you come down again, anyway? Come to make up for ditching me and Nathan?”

“…How did that go, by the way?”

“Me and Nathan? It wasn’t like, a tearful reunion or anything. We talked a little. Well, I talked mostly. I think he just wanted to be able to listen, and not be forced to talk, you know? It was really cool to see him again. He seems…better. Kind of sad, like before, but less stressed,” Victoria explained.

Max nodded. Without Jefferson and his dad breathing down his neck, she imagined Nathan was able to breathe at least a little easier. She almost told Victoria about Nathan being in town, following her, and showing her pictures from his dad’s surveillance footage. However, something held her back, and she kept it to herself.

 

* * *

 

_Holy shit. There’s Sean Prescott._ Max was still in Arcadia Bay the next morning. She had slept in Victoria’s dorm on the couch, and drove over to the Two Whales for breakfast. She hadn’t even gotten out of her car yet when she saw Sean Prescott’s expensive Mercedes rolling down the street in front of the diner.

Max thought back to what Kate said about Sean avoiding showing his face around town. _So he must be doing something important,_ she thought. She could just imagine Chloe in the passenger seat of her car. “ _What are you waiting for? After him!”_

Without thinking any further, Max put her car in gear and pulled out into the road to follow him. She concentrated on staying a ways back, praying that another car or two would come in between them so she could distance herself further. Unfortunately there wasn’t a whole lot of traffic in the sleepy town.

Max trailed behind Sean’s immaculate SUV for about six miles. She thought he might be headed towards the junkyard, but he had turned at the last second, heading in a different direction. At a red light Max could see through his back window. He lifted a phone to his ear. By the time the light flicked back to green, he had put the phone down and taken off like a bat out of hell. Did she dare pick up speed to keep up with him? Unfortunately, she never got to figure it out as a large white SUV drove up closer to her.

Funny, Max didn’t remember there being a white SUV behind her. When she checked her rearview mirror again, they were tailgating all the way up to her bumper. _What the hell?_ Max turned on her blinker and turned right at a random street. They followed. She picked up speed, not bothering to signal as she took a hard left. The SUV turned left.

Okay, she was definitely being followed. Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest. What did these people want? Just to scare her? What would they do when they caught her? It was no secret that Sean Prescott considered himself to be above the law. He would be the type to hire others so he didn’t have to get his hands dirty.

The SUV didn’t ease up one bit, taking all of the space in her rearview, ominously closing in on her. _Think, Max. I’ve got to get somewhere public, with witnesses._

Turning back onto the highway, she headed back in the direction of the Two Whales. That place was always busy, there’s no way they would try something in front of all those people, right?

When she pulled up next to the diner, the SUV screeched to a halt in the spot next to her. At that exact moment, a trucker finishing up a cigarette turned and went back inside the Two Whales. The bus reached its destination and the people waiting nearby piled onto it. Max looked around hopelessly. There was nobody left around at all! Maybe Joyce would be able to see her through the diner windows?

Her palms began to sweat as the driver door opened and a short, stocky guy with a thick neck began to approach her car, an angry look on his face. Maybe it was time to rewind, after all.

Somebody laid on their horn, the sharp noise jarring Max.

“Caulfield, are you coming or what?” Nathan’s voice drifted through her open car window. He had just driven into the parking lot, idling in his truck, looking at her expectantly. “Get in the truck.”

“Excuse me,” the strange man’s voice was deep and monotonous, and she wasn’t sure to whom he was speaking.

“Excuse _me,_ ” Nathan interjected. “But we’re running late.”

Max looked at the man coming up to her car, and Nathan outside her other window. She didn’t hesitate for long as she pulled the key out of the ignition and scooted away from the strange man to the other side of her car. Pulling open her door, she scrambled into Nathan’s truck. He slowly rolled away, and Max saw the man get back into his SUV. When Nathan turned down the road, he did not follow him.

“Where are we going?” Max asked, her hands still shaking from the adrenaline.

“Just around the block a couple times before I drop you back at your car.” Nathan had one hand on the steering wheel, and the other was in his lap as he loaded a joint paper one-handed. An unlit cigarette was balanced between his lips and it bounced up and down when he spoke.

“Were you following me again?” Max demanded.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Nathan remarked. “No. I was driving along and I see you being followed by my dad’s associate, figured you fucked up again. Guess a thank you is beyond your vocabulary, princess.”

“What does that mean, ‘his associate?’ That guy looked like a thug or something!”

“Andre isn’t a thug, he just looks scary to intimidate people.”

Max warily eyed the weed he was still expertly scooping into the paper on his lap. “Are you supposed to be toking that stuff while you’re still on parole?”

“Obviously not.” He took both hands off the wheel momentarily to lick the paper in a clean swipe and finish twisting up the joint. Max had an urge to grab hold of the wheel. So much for all that court-mandated therapy he’d been assigned. “So what’d you do this time?”

Now Max felt embarrassed. Nathan made fun of her at every chance, and this time she deserved it. She had followed behind Sean Prescott with less tact than the blindest amateur. She decided not to lie. “I was following your dad around town.”

Nathan let out a loud sigh as he shook his head. “Unbelievable.” He tucked the now finished joint behind his ear and finally lit the cigarette dangling from his mouth, a cloud of smoke encircling him and permeating the truck with the scent of tobacco. Gross. Max tilted the air vent in his direction.

“Well, maybe if you’d actually given me some useful information instead of some incriminating pictures and a vague explanation, I would have had something better to go on.”

Now he looked mad. “What the fuck makes you think you can figure out anything that the police haven’t? Am I missing something here? Why are you doing this for a town you don’t live in, for people you don’t know?”

“I don’t want another Rachel Amber case happening.”

Max caught herself this time and didn’t continue in case she gave something important away. She leaned her forehead against her window, feeling the cool glass on her skin. When Nathan pulled back into the Two Whales, the white SUV was gone. He made no move to kick her out of his truck, just flicked his cigarette butt out the window and took the joint out from behind his ear. He didn’t light it like a cigarette. He held it away from him and let the flame catch the little twist of paper at the end before raising it to his lips, just like Max had seen Victoria do.

Sweet-smelling smoke filled the air, and Max found it to be much less offensive than the foul cloud of tobacco smoke that seemed to be perpetually swirling around him.

He offered it to Max, and she waved it away. “I don’t smoke.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything else, Caulfield.” It irritated her when he acted like he had her all figured out. “You know, Andre wouldn’t have hurt you. He would have just threatened, told you to keep your distance from my dad.”

If that was really the case, Max wondered why he had swooped in like that.

She stared at the missing person posters blanketing the wall of the alley behind the Two Whales. “Arcadia Bay sure is accident prone,” she remarked.

Nathan had reclined in his seat, looking infinitely more relaxed as he inhaled thickly from his joint. He let out a dry bark of laughter. “I don’t think ‘accident prone’ begins to cover it. Psychotic teachers, missing kids, dead whales, and a city-leveling typhoon? It’s a wonder my dad thinks he can increase tourism here.”

Max’s laughter bubbled out of her chest, unexpected. She wondered if she was getting a contact high.  “Yeah, what’s next, a virus outbreak or a killer earthquake?”

It was a solid forty-five seconds before they realized what the other had just said.

Did—did Nathan Prescott just mention dead animals? And the tornado? And did she just agree with him?

Max’s heart froze in her chest. The tornado had never happened. All those animals had never died. She had gone back and changed it, it was impossible for Nathan to know about those things.

“How the fuck do you know about the storm??” Max was sitting bolt upright and barely noticed the fear in his eyes as she spoke through lips that had turned to ice.

“How the fuck do _you_ know about the storm?” he retorted, eyes blazing. Max hadn’t seen an expression like that on his face since the police took him out of Blackwell in cuffs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhh okay so I listened this recording of an unused voice reel from life is strange and you could hear nathan saying, "Ahh, my head! I've seen the storm! I've seen the storm and you're all going to die!" or something along those lines.  
> I didn't do much research to see if it was real or if the creators actually planned on following through with that, but regardless it gave me some crazy inspiration for this story!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter switches POVs a couple times because otherwise we would have no idea what is going on in that boy's head.  
> So if you missed the end note in the last chapter, I got inspiration from listening to some unused voice clips of Nathan's character in which he stated he had seen the storm as well.

They were too scared to speak.

“You’d better tell me what the fuck is going on this very second,” Nathan said, failing to keep his voice steady.

“H-how have you seen the storm? It never happened!” Max insisted.

“Yeah, no shit, because it was _my_ hallucination.” Nathan was so distracted that he didn’t realize he had relaxed his hand, his forgotten joint burning a crescent scar into his leather seat. Upon noticing, he slapped the ember out, cursing under his breath. “Are you gonna say something? Hello? You’re not gonna pass out are you? You’ve got, like no color in your face.”

Max finally found her voice. “ _Your_ hallucination?” she repeated stupidly. “You hallucinated a giant tornado?”

“Up at the lighthouse. It was heading for Arcadia Bay. There were all these beached whales, just lined up on the sand…Then I was back in my room, like nothing ever happened.”

“Nathan, that wasn’t just you. I saw it too, that exact thing. It was in class, the day you got arrested. In fact, it wasn’t even a hallucination. It was like I was there.” How much should she reveal about the storm and the rewind powers? She had to gauge how much information Nathan had.

“Duh, it felt real to me too, but we obviously weren’t _there_ in person so that would have to be a fucking hallucination, see?” He had no idea, she thought. He raked his hands through his hair, leaning forward slightly. “I saw the storm two weeks before I got arrested. Figured I had finally snapped for good, until it stopped completely.”

“Is that all?”

“What kind of fucking question is that? We have two identical hallucinations in the same span of time and you say ‘that’s all?’”

“I meant it as ‘are you telling me everything?’”

He narrowed his eyes and reached out towards her. For whatever reason, she jumped. His hand moved past as he leaned over her to reach his glove compartment. _Of course he wasn’t reaching for you, idiot!_ Max felt her face get hot again.

Nathan produced a baggie of about ten rectangular pills. Max frowned. If they were from his doctor, they’d be in a prescription bottle. He fished two out and dropped them in his mouth, swallowing them dry. How many drugs was he going to take in a single morning?

“I think you’re the one who’s not telling me everything,” he observed.

“W-why do you say that?”

“Because you’re not telling me everything!”

“You would never believe me if I tried.”

“Nobody ever believes me when I tell them I didn’t shoot Chloe on purpose. Doesn’t stop me from saying it.”

Max stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about Chloe with you.”

“You don’t want to talk to me about anything, Max. I can see it in your face.” It was silent for a few beats. “It was my hand. My fucking muscle spasms. The gun just…went off.”

Max climbed down from the truck and slammed the door behind her. She couldn’t listen to him anymore. This was getting too personal. She didn’t know when those pills of his were going to kick in, and she didn’t want to be around when they did.

 

* * *

 

She had walked out on him. Nathan’s hand twitched uncomfortably as he turned the key in his ignition, listening to the grumble of the engine start up. Max was already driving away.

He willed himself to be furious at her for walking out in the middle of such an important conversation, but he could not. He supposed he couldn’t blame her for rejecting his bumbling attempts at making amends. It didn’t help that he was faced out of his mind. Really, Nathan hadn’t planned on lighting his joint until after Max had left. But then she’d started talking about Rachel Amber and he couldn’t help it. Things had only escalated after they started talking about the storm. He’d reached for those pills without even thinking, an automatic response to his stress. No wonder she had ducked out like a bat outta hell. Caulfield didn’t even smoke, let alone dabble in the hard stuff. He silently cursed himself for waving pills around in front of her face like he was trying to pick up random beach trash at a Blackwell bonfire or something.

Nathan was surprised at his growing attachment at having her around. He knew he was being weird, finding her phone number from the school directory and showing up at her dorm, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. The more time he spent with her, the more he kicked himself for not recognizing her straight away at the rec center. He’d seen her around campus before she’d hidden in that bathroom. She had been especially resilient to Victoria’s verbal assaults, something he knew had burned her to the core. _“Why does Jefferson always pay so much more attention to Max than the rest of us? What the fuck is so great about her?”_ Victoria would say. Victoria got lethal when she was jealous. Jefferson’s fixation with Max could never have ended well for her, and Nathan was relieved that Max would never know just how serious that was.

When Nathan had spoken to her outside of the rec center, he’d been struck by her expressive blue eyes. Every emotion that passed across them was intense, almost tangible. What must it be like to be so sincere and genuine? His own emotions were a tangled mess of short-circuits. Half the time he could barely discern one from another.

With a frustrated sigh, he shut off his engine. He had nowhere to go in Arcadia Bay. He would never stay at his parent’s house, and it still felt weird to hit up Victoria. If Max thought she was getting out of their conversation, she was in for a surprise. She was hiding something for certain. Only a complete moron would be fooled by her. Max Caulfield was particularly easy to read; she wore her heart on her sleeve.

They had seen the same vision, and he was going to find out more.

 

* * *

 

Nathan awoke to a sharp rap on his truck window. He jerked upright with a start. Joyce Price was standing outside his window, hands poised angrily on her hips. She was giving him a hard glare, her mouth stiff with disapproval.

“You can’t sleep here,” she informed him. He realized he had fallen asleep in the Two Whales parking lot. What time was it?

Nathan rubbed his bleary eyes and only then noticed Officer Berry standing a ways behind her, arms crossed defensively, as if waiting for Nathan to have an outburst. _Everybody in this fucking town hates me._ Even almost two years later, he received similar such stares from various locals. He had seen Joyce’s face in the papers last year, the tabloids exploiting her grief and sadness in order to sustain their ratings. Of course she hated him, he had taken away her only child.

He felt his upper lip curl into a snarl. Starting his truck, he was only too happy to leave the shitty establishment. According to the blue glow of his dashboard, he had been sleeping nearly four hours. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over Arcadia Bay.

Nathan checked his phone. He had a missed text message from Max. Shit!

 ** _MC:_** _Meet me at the beach?_

It was sent thirty minutes ago. If he hurried, maybe she would still be there.

 

* * *

 

By the time Nathan approached the beach, five more minutes had passed. Max hadn’t answered her phone. He was about to pull off into the beach lot when he noticed a commotion on the side of the road. Was that Max? He rolled to a stop and got out of his truck.

A beat-up brown station wagon had crashed headfirst into a telephone pole. A woman with thick, black hair was running up to the driver’s side to check on whoever was inside the vehicle. Max was fifty feet away, a horror-stricken expression on her face.

“What happened?” Nathan demanded once he had hurried over, glass crunching beneath the soles of his shoes. 

She did not answer right away, her legs swaying beneath her. Her face was ashen and distraught. “Max? What the fuck happened?”

“I…I didn’t mean to, I was just…” she trailed off uselessly.

“Are you hurt? Where’s your car?”

“It’s…” she halfheartedly lifted her arm in the direction of the beach. It didn’t appear that she had been in the accident.

“I’m calling an ambulance!” A voice sounded from behind him. Nathan turned and looked at the black-haired woman still at the driver’s side, the door now hanging open. The driver was awake and beginning to disentangle himself from behind his seat belt and deployed airbag.

A red stream began to trickle slowly from Max’s nose.

“Did that car hit you or something?” Nathan asked with alarm. Max shook her head no. “We should get out of here. The cops are coming.”

“I can’t,” Max insisted in a dazed voice. “That car…it wouldn’t be right.”

“I don’t care, they already have a witness. Let’s go.” Nathan didn’t care how involved Max had been with the accident, she was in no state to handle an interrogation from the cops once they arrived.

Max continued to stare blankly, her eyes fixated on the splintering telephone pole.

“Come _on_.” Nathan took her by the arm and led her to his truck. He opened his passenger door and she climbed inside as if on auto-pilot. The black-haired woman was distracted, holding her phone to her ear and looking worriedly at the injured driver. Nathan’s tires squealed as he pulled the truck away from the crash.

 

* * *

 

Max had wanted to apologize to Nathan. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear his side of the story yet, but at the very least she could apologize for leaving so abruptly. He was not exactly the type to put himself in such a vulnerable position, and she had flat out walked away. It was clearly something that he was hurting over, and it didn’t feel right to be so cold to somebody, especially somebody who had just done her a favor.

 ** _MC:_** _Meet me at the beach?_

Max took her shoes off and sat in the sand, watching the golden sun sink lower into the sky and listening to the birds call out to each other. The hiking trail up to the lighthouse was close by, but Max had walked right past the sign. It wasn’t time yet.

After twenty minutes had passed, she still hadn’t received a text from Nathan. Odd. He usually was quick to respond. Maybe he was still high from those pills. Max stuffed her feet back in her shoes and walked away from the water towards the road to wait for him. The tall trees cast enough shade that the streetlight was hidden from the sun in the sky and had flickered on, casting a dim spotlight below.

Max pulled out her phone to text him a second time when she heard a kid laughing nearby. A woman with black hair wearing yoga pants was walking down the sidewalk with her son. The boy looked to be about seven years old, his thick curls springing out wildly from his tiny head. He was very distracted, shrieking with delight at the shiny rocks he crouched down to collect, ignoring her motherly scolding for picking up dirty things.

It happened in a split second. A rock slipped out of the child’s hands, and he darted into the street to capture it. His mother was not fast enough to snatch his hand up. A brown station wagon was speeding, taking the curve in the road too quickly. Max’s heart leapt up into her throat and she held up her hand, a scream caught in her throat as she froze the scene in front of her. A look of terror was plastered on the mother’s face, the driver looking panicked as he was about to make impact. The boy’s chubby fingers were splayed apart, still reaching for his treasure, oblivious to the vehicle about to collide with him. Pain instantly creeped up the back of her skull as Max rewound, everything moving backwards, resetting itself. She had sworn she would never rewind again, that she wasn’t equipped to handle the weight of her choices.

The flash of pain was white hot and she released her hand, letting the scene play out in front of her once more.

“Stop! Stop him!” she shrieked, sprinting towards the boy. Max could see the station wagon rounding the corner. She must have looked too wild-eyed, because his mother was instantly on the defensive.

“Don’t touch him,” the mother demanded, reaching out for her son, ready to protect him from the crazed girl rushing at them. Taking a step backward from the intensity in Max’s eyes, she didn’t see the car coming.

“Look out!” Max cried out, an instant too late.

She didn’t freeze in time, and heard the sickening snap of bone as the woman lurched forward, the sound of squealing brakes startling the birds from their branches. Max gagged at the red splotch on the pavement and held her hand out again, looking away as she rewound, ignoring the pulsing in her head. _I need to go back even further_ , she thought.

“Excuse me, ma’am!” Max called, trying to look calm as she flagged down the woman and her son. “I was wondering if you had a minute to talk about the preservation of the bay’s rare species of fish…” The station wagon recklessly rounded the curve while she was still talking to them, successfully passing by, allowing Max to breathe a sigh of relief.

Another squeal of brakes and the repulsive crunch of metal made Max whirl around. A deer lay in the middle of the road, twitching sharply as smoke poured out of the hood of the car. The driver wasn’t moving. Max felt sick and queasy as she held her hand out again to rewind.

This time the pain was absolutely searing. She hadn’t rewound in a long time. Deciding this time to start with the root of the problem, Max jogged a ways down the street and frantically waved her arms in the air at the station wagon.

He wasn’t stopping. Didn’t he see her?

As the car came closer, Max saw the pale glow of his phone light on his face. The guy wasn’t even paying attention. He looked up and saw Max at the last second, swerving his wheel in panic. Max watched in horror as the car embedded its front end around a telephone pole.

Her headache was throbbing now, pulsing behind her eyes and consuming her. She lifted her hand up to rewind, but she was tapped out, blinded by the pain in her head. _This is why I stopped rewinding. I can never save everybody._ The image of Chloe on the bathroom floor flashed across her mind.

The streetlight illuminated the broken glass on the pavement, glittering sharply as a pair of headlights slowly approached them. The boy’s mother had instructed him to stay put as she ran over to see if the driver was okay.

Max barely registered that Nathan had emerged from his truck seemingly out of nowhere and was asking her questions. _Maybe I can try and rewind again?_ This was just hopeful thinking, and she knew it.

“We should get out of here. The cops are coming.”

Max knew you weren’t supposed to leave the scene of an accident until the police came. “I can’t. That car…it wouldn’t be right.” She had caused the accident, after all. Didn’t she need to give some sort of statements for the police report?

“I don’t care, they already have a witness. Let’s go.”

_This is just like before, it’s just like before, just like Chloe. Every action has a reaction. I caused this._

They were driving now, away from the crash. “Max, what’s the matter with you? It’s not like that guy was dead.”

It was no use, Max was getting wound up now.

“Turn around.”

“I’m not turning around.”

“ _Fuck,_ Nathan, I caused that!” Her eyes were wide with panic. “I have to fix it!” Nathan did not comment on her strange choice of words. He could not understand that she had the power to fix it. Her heart was racing fast and hard in her chest. A lump formed in her throat as if she were about to cry, but her eyes never teared up. She felt as if there wasn’t enough air in the truck and suddenly she was gasping, struggling to pull in oxygen as a pressure increased against her airway.

For as often as this happened to her, it never diminished the fear that settled low in her stomach, the dread that she wasn’t going to make it through this one.

“You’re not breathing right, Caulfield. Pay attention, you’re gonna start hyperventilating.” Nathan had apparently pulled the truck over some time ago, and his voice was so low that Max almost didn’t hear him. Her hands were shaking as she leaned her head against her side window.

In a gesture so unlike him Max would have been shocked if she’d been in a more even state, he reached into the center console and produced a clear hourglass no taller than her palm. He flipped it over deftly and the sand began to fall. “Breathe in,” he instructed. When the sand had all tumbled through, he turned it again. “Now out.”

He kept turning it, and Max found herself calming down, her breathing growing steadier. She honestly wasn’t sure how much of it was from sheer distraction by Nathan’s bizarre behavior. The grains of sand tumbled over each other delicately.

“Where did you get that?” she asked him. He had stashed the hourglass away in the console as quickly as he had taken it out. Nathan busied himself with putting the truck back into gear and pulling back onto the road.

“I made it.”

There was a pause as Nathan presumably expected her to laugh. When she remained silent, he cleared his throat and continued.

“I, uh, was having a lot of panic attacks for a while. I recognize one when I see it. At times the problem was that I would breathe too quickly without realizing it. Therapist recommended a way to time myself. Got one of those kits and filled it with the sand I needed. It’s timed for about seven seconds.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Doesn’t always work, but sometimes it does.”

Nathan didn’t look over at her while he was talking, finding it easier to focus on the road instead of his audience. She guessed that he didn’t usually admit things like this to people. His fingers gripped the steering wheel hard and his leg was jiggling up and down slightly.

“I’m going to tell you something, and you’re probably not going to believe me,” Max said in a rush, before she could change her mind. She wasn’t sure what made her want to reciprocate with his personal reveal, but she did. “The day that I saw the storm, something else happened. When I went into the bathroom and saw you and Chloe come in, I found a way to…do it over. To rewind it. I know it sounds crazy, but—”

“No. It doesn’t.” His eyes were wild and bright and she couldn't tell if he was joking.

Max looked at him, stunned. “What?”

“I did it, too. I mean, it happened once.”

“It happened _once_?” Nathan Prescott, spoiled control freak, only used his super-rewind-powers _once_?

“Well, yeah, it scared the shit out of me!” Nathan said defensively.

“Holy…”

“I don’t really want to get into detail, but I only rewound the one time.”

“I can’t believe you can…that you—”

“Wait a second,” Nathan interrupted. “Did you say you rewound in the bathroom that day?”

Now it was Max’s turn to fidget and look away. “Yes,” she whispered. “I changed it.”

“And Chloe still ended up dead.”

“It was more complicated than that. I don’t feel like sharing details either.”

Nathan scoffed. “Well, was there at least an outcome that didn’t end up with me arrested and committed?” he asked hotly.

Max looked him boldly in the eyes. “Yes, and you died.”

He was careful not to react, always withholding something. He did not ask her any more questions.

“I stopped using it after that, the rewind thing,” Max said. “Until today.” Tearing her gaze away from his dashboard, she looked over at him. “This kid just ran out in front of a car, and then when I went back somebody else got hurt. I really wanted to fix everything back there.”

“I know.”

It was soothing to hear him say so, but Max couldn’t figure out why.

“Why didn’t you rewind when you got arrested?” Max asked. It seemed like an obvious thing to do.

“I couldn’t at that point.”

“Why not?”

He began jiggling his leg again, and Max was worried that he wasn’t going to tell her. “I stifled it. Back when I rewound the first time it freaked me out, like I said. That night I went out and partied pretty hard. We did all these lines, and everybody was just passing out pills like they were fucking vitamins. I got so trashed that night, and when I finally had the confidence to try to rewind, I couldn’t. It just stopped. I didn’t have to worry about it anymore. After that I was pretty much always wasted. I mean, I partied before, but it didn’t turn into a daily thing until I figured out I could suppress the rewinding. Believe me, the day that gun went off and the cops bust in, I tried. I tried going back so I could leave the gun at home, but it didn’t work.”

Max thought back to the pinned pages of Frank’s logbook on Chloe’s corkboard, all of Nathan’s outlandish drug purchases recorded, all MDMA and coke and many assortments of hallucinogens. She was burning with curiosity to know what had happened to Nathan that first time to make him so afraid to rewind. She knew better than to try and needle it out of him.

It had never occurred to Max not to use her power when she’d discovered it. Hell, the first thing she had done was tell her best friend about it. They’d used it to find Rachel Amber. Max hadn’t realized the consequences of it until much later. She realized suddenly that Nathan might not know about the ability to use photographs to go back in time.

“Why us? Why are we the only ones with this fucked up ability?” she asked, her head in a whirlwind at the thought that she was not alone.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Max noticed that they were back at the beach, the sun about to dip beneath the horizon. He had parked neatly next to her car.

“It hurt, didn’t it?” Max asked. “Rewinding?”

Nathan gave a dry laugh. “Like a bitch.”


	6. Chapter 6

Before Max left Arcadia Bay, she had visited Kate briefly to ask about forgiveness. Had she forgiven Nathan? Kate looked slightly confused about her question, and worded her answer carefully. “It’s taken me a while, but yes. I believe that carrying hate in your heart doesn’t hurt the other person, it only hurts you. I believe in forgiving others so that we ourselves can be forgiven. There’s no such thing as a ‘good’ person because every last one of us are sinners, but I like to find the good _in_ people. Nathan must have gone through some terrible things to hurt people the way he did. While that doesn’t justify his actions, I hope that he got the help he needed.”

Max had driven back to Portland that very night, texting Victoria that she’d changed her mind, and there was some party at one of the sorority houses. Victoria was thrilled, and had driven up right away.

The two of them were now lounging in Max’s dorm room. She had borrowed an outfit of Victoria’s—some ensemble with leggings and a long off-the-shoulder sweater.

“You’re so lucky you got a single room,” Victoria remarked. “My roommate is driving me batshit crazy.”

Max was still mulling over Kate’s answer about forgiveness as Victoria began to pregame before they left. Max watched Victoria light the tip of her joint and bring it up to her lips to inhale. She was watching so closely, in fact, that Victoria looked up at her. “Did you want a hit?”

Max hesitated, then thought of what Nathan told her about making the rewind powers go away. She leaned forward and took the rolled paper from between Victoria’s fingers. It was already stained red from her lipstick.

When she took a drag from the end of it, she wasn’t expecting the harsh sensation of the smoke in her lungs. “Whoa.” She coughed loudly, holding the joint away from her as her mouth filled with saliva. Victoria pounded her on the back and handed her a water bottle. While Max took a drink, Victoria took some more expert looking puffs.

“Try again. If you have to cough, try to get all the smoke out first. It’ll help with the burning in your throat.”

Max did as she was told, carefully holding the smoke in her lungs before exhaling it all at the ceiling. She did cough again afterwards, but it wasn’t as bad.

“What is this?” Victoria asked, plucking a piece of paper off of the desk. She was leaning back in Max’s computer chair, the joint delicately dangling from her other hand. Max moved her head in what seemed like slow motion. She was holding a prescription.

“My anti-anxiety meds.”

“Why haven’t you filled this? It’s about to expire!”

Max shrugged. “I don’t want them.”

“Are you kidding? These things are the bomb. Even if you didn’t take them, you know how much money you could make off these?”

“Are they really that popular?” Max found that her tongue was sticking to the inside of her mouth. She drank more water.

“Oh, man, smoking a huge blunt and popping one of these makes for the best evening you’ve ever had, trust me.”

This, for some reason, struck Max as hilarious and unexpected laughter rose up out of her chest. She studied everything around her room, and vaguely wondered why she hadn’t tried smoking weed before. There was an unfamiliar light feeling in her chest.

Adopting a rather “fuck it” attitude, she agreed to fill the prescription and Victoria drove them to a 24-hour drive through pharmacy. While they were waiting for it to be filled, they walked across the street to the gas station and filled two 32oz cups with red and blue slushees, relishing the icy cold syrup on their parched lips.

Max directed Victoria to the sorority where the party was being held at. Flyers had littered her dorm halls for a week advertising this event. Victoria parked outside and pulled out another pre-roll to light. Partygoers crossed the green stretch of lawn to the front door. Colored lights flashed through the windows and a steady bass beat thumped inside.

“I am so psyched for this party,” Victoria remarked. “I was going to invite Courtney and Taylor, but they always get plastered within the first twenty minutes and then I have to drive their drunk asses home.” She clenched her teeth and stifled a cough, blowing the smoke out and handing the joint to Max.

She took one more hit, the smoke thick in her mouth as she exhaled. Poking her straw down at the bottom of her slushee, she was disappointed to see that it was almost empty. Her cottonmouth was back. “I need something to drink,” Max announced.

Victoria nodded and stubbed out the joint in her ashtray. “You and me both, girl. Let’s get in there and hope they haven’t tapped the keg yet.” Rattling the bottle of Max’s pills, she dumped two out into her hand and offered Max one. Fuck it. She didn’t think, didn’t want to think anymore and used the rest of her slushee to swallow it down.

Inside there was a large tiled entrance with a staircase leading to the second floor. The line for the bathroom snaked down the steps. Beyond that, they could see sliding glass doors leading out to the deck where people were packed like sardines. Max followed Victoria to the kitchen, her head swimming pleasantly. There were lots of people standing around in there, pouring themselves various drinks from the assortment of liquor bottles resting on the island counter. A girl with red hair in cutoff shorts was sitting on the counter, pouring fruit and rum and ice into a blender. She looked at Victoria’s designer clothes with approval.

“You don’t look nearly drunk enough. Daiquiri?” she offered.

“Oh, my God, yes. We just got here and haven’t had anything to drink at all,” Victoria said.

Some guy nearby in a football jersey overheard this and thrust two tiny paper cups with Jello shots wiggling in them at Max and Victoria. “Great timing, we’re about to take some shots!”

Victoria shifted into full on party mode, fitting in with the crowd instantly. Max was slower to acclimate, but found it much easier to talk to people the more she drank. Everyone was so friendly and easy to get along with. They taught Max how to play quarters in the den area and when a particular rap song came on the whole party jumped up simultaneously with a shout, apparently this song was a favorite of this crowd’s. With her head fuzzy, she laughed with them and let Victoria pull her up by the arms into the circle. She put her hands up in the air with abandon, shaking her hips to the beat.

Victoria held up her phone and the girls posed as the flash went off. Max studied the picture. Her eyes looked red and heavy, a sideways smirk on her face, and Victoria looked glamorous as always. They kept dancing and Victoria suddenly yelled something about Nathan over the music, looking down at her phone.

“What?” Max yelled back, but Victoria did not hear her.

The girl with the cutoff shorts was named either Tina or Trina, Max hadn’t understood her. When Victoria showed her Max’s prescription, her friends had all squealed in delight.

Folded bills suddenly made their way into Victoria’s palm as she distributed the pills. “Should we be selling these?” Max asked worriedly.

“I did this all the time with Nathan,” she said nonchalantly.

Not wanting to dwell too long on problems of any sort, she went back to the game of quarters at the table. A guy next to her named Damien from her English class was trying to show her just the right angle to bounce the quarters on the table. His teachings were partly successful; Max’s next quarter bounced right in the cup. Damien had long, skinny fingers that reminded her of Nathan for some reason, and she watched as he split a thin cigar down the length of it and dumped the tobacco into an empty red cup.

“What are you doing?” Max asked him.

“I’m rolling a blunt, newbie.” He winked at her, and Max decided he was kind of cute with his boyish dimples and ripped jeans. Damien expertly sprinkled weed evenly throughout the empty cigar paper. He rolled it up and licked it all over, burning it off with a lighter afterward. Everything was much more interesting to watch when she was high, she discerned.

When Nathan Prescott appeared in the crowd, Max thought the sight of him would mess up her shot for sure. When her quarter landed in the cup with a satisfying _clink_ , there was a collective “Ohhhh!!” in the crowd as she selected who had to drink next. Max was feeding off of the electricity in the air, and the spark intensified when she saw Nathan’s face.

“Max!” Victoria came up next to her excitedly. “I invited Nathan so we can all party!” She motioned over to him.

What else could she do but smile politely at him?

He did not reciprocate. As per usual, Max could not read the look on his face. He almost looked pissed.

The game of quarters continued and Max made her way back to the kitchen to grab a couple of water bottles. She uncapped one and took greedy gulps as she squeezed through the thick crowd hanging out by the back door. Once outside, she located Victoria smoking a cigarette and scrolling on her phone. Max moved to stand next to her, offering her a water bottle. Victoria waved it away, taking another drag, a contented look on her face.

“There are so many hot guys here,” Victoria said with approval. “That Damien guy is so into you. Isn’t it great that Nathan came? It’s so cool that you guys go to the same school. Maybe he’ll be able to blow off some steam as well. I mean, just look at you! You look like a weight’s been lifted from your shoulders.”

Max smiled. “It feels that way.”

“This party was long overdue.”

They went back inside, Victoria swiping the second water bottle from Max. By that point, Damien had assumed the responsibility of refilling Max’s drink. The keg was in the den with them, and he jumped up two times to pour her a little more when she finished tipping them back. More people were arriving, the room completely crammed. Victoria wedged herself on the couch next to Max when Damien finally sparked up the blunt. It was much thicker than the joint, and he passed it immediately to Max after he finished hitting it. She was surprised to find that the blunt was much smoother to inhale from.

“Don’t take too much of that,” Nathan ordered out of nowhere. It was loud enough that not everyone heard him, but Max certainly did. Damien made some stupid joke, distracting her, and Max laughed loudly. Victoria got up and moved over to Nathan to pass him the blunt, chattering jovially.

Max suddenly felt somebody’s breath on her ear. She turned, and it was Tina/Trina. “Dude, your friend is _so hot_ ,” she slurred at Max, gesturing over to Nathan. “I mean, where has he _been_ all my life? Is he seeing anyone?”

“I don’t know,” Max said, instantly irritated. She wished Tina/Trina would go away.

“Well, I’m gonna find out.”

Finally, she stumbled away to Nathan, and the blunt had rotated back to Max. “I guess I’ll take one more hit,” Max laughed like she had some private joke.

“Good choice,” Damien agreed.

When Max accidentally took too much, she coughed violently, doubling over a little at the waist. Some blonde girl snickered. “Look at the lame baby freshmen they’re letting in here,” she remarked.

“Don’t fucking talk to her like that,” Victoria spit out at the girl, suddenly turning into a dragon lady. The girl looked Victoria up and down with a condescending scoff before retreating into the next room, apparently not finding the situation worth her time.

“Need anything from the kitchen?” Damien asked her. “I’m going in.”

“Another water?”

“You got it.”

Nathan moved quickly into Damien’s vacated seat.

“How many more fucking drinks are you going to take from this cheesedick?” Nathan asked angrily.

“What?”

“How stupid do you have to be to take drinks from some guy you don’t know? You don’t know what’s in them.”

“Sure sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Max answered acidly. It was a pretty low blow, but she hated that look on his face, like she’d disappointed him or something. Like he was any better than she was. She knew he was right about the drink thing, but she argued anyway. “The keg is right here, we all watched him pour those drinks. Anyway, I know him from class.”

His jaw clenched like he was grinding his teeth. “Are you even sober enough to notice if the seals on these water bottles are broken or not?”

“Yes! God, what is with you?”

“I just think it’s time we left.”

“ _I_ came with Victoria, separately. We haven’t even been here that long. She didn’t invite you to be a huge buzzkill.”

“I’d say you’ve been here long enough, Vic sent me that picture of you guys over an hour ago and you looked trashed even then.”

“I am not trashed!” Max insisted resentfully. Victoria had sent him the picture to get him to come party? She rose up from the couch, her feet getting stuck under the coffee table, making her stumble slightly. Nathan reached up instinctively to steady her. The unmistakable clatter of a pill bottle sounded from inside her jacket pocket. Without asking, he reached right inside and pulled out Max’s pills, the bottle significantly lighter than it had been at the beginning of the night.

“Stay out of my pockets,” Max snapped at him. She snatched the bottle back and jammed it into her pocket. “Where do you get off taking my things?”

She tried to move around him, past the clump of people blocking the door. Victoria was nowhere to be found. “Excuse me,” she said, dodging elbows and flying cups. Two girls had climbed up onto the trophy case in the front room, swaying their hips to the music.

**_MC:_ ** _Where are you?_

Hopefully Victoria responded soon.

Suddenly Damien was at her side. “Hey, there you are! You kinda disappeared on me, dude!”

“Sorry, I was just—”

Nathan reappeared and collided with Damien from the side, knocking the water bottle out of his hand. “Do me a favor and fuck off, Dylan.”

“What the hell is your problem?” Damien said angrily.

“We’re leaving,” Nathan said.

Max resisted the urge to stomp as she pushed her way to the front door, away from Nathan and his temper. If she thought she could lose him in the crowd, she was dead wrong. Nathan was hot on her trail as she made her way into the cool, night air. She dialed Victoria’s number, tapping her foot impatiently. It went to voicemail.

“You’re never going to peel her away from a party before two a.m.” Nathan explained. “You think she’s in any state to drive you home?”

“Well, I’m sure as hell not going with _you_ ,” she retorted.

“Think you’ll take the bus? Think again,” he sneered. “I know all too well what happens on Saturday nights on a university campus. I’ll drive.”

Her phone battery was dying. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to reach Victoria at all. She could go back in, but with Nathan barking in her ear like this, she wouldn’t have any fun.

In the end, there was no choice but to get in his truck, but she made sure he knew she was mad about it—slamming the door and crossing her arms, keeping her face turned away from him towards her window. Eventually her need to snap at him outweighed her desire to give him the silent treatment.

“You know, you are such a huge hypocrite.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are,” Max said primly. “You partied harder than anyone at Blackwell, and now you’re getting on my ass? Unbelievable.”

“Oh, I’m unbelievable?” he repeated, lighting a cigarette, his left hand lazily draped over the wheel. “Max, you’ve never so much as smoked a cigarette and I find you downing pills and beer and smoking blunts. Remind me who the hypocrite is?”

“One, _one_ pill,” she argued. “How can you of all people be overreacting this way?”

“Well, excuse the fuck out of me.” He clenched the cigarette harder between his teeth, a stray lock of hair tumbling onto his forehead. “Sorry for diverting you away from sucking off some loser named Darren in the bushes behind the house, because that’s exactly where that night was headed.”

“You’re such a pig,” she said with disgust, turning away from him again.

“If I had said my coping mechanism for the visions and rewinds was heroin, would you be holding a fucking lighter under a spoon right now? I mean, son of a bitch, Max. The second I tell you about my issues you go out and begin the exact same self-destructive habit.”

Max was surprised to feel tears prick at her eyes, and she was grateful that it was dark outside. “It wasn’t like that,” she insisted. “I was not starting a habit, I was just trying something new.”

“Give me a break. You’re saying you did none of that because of what happened with the kid and that car today?”

He was right and she was furious about it.

“You’re not going to make me feel guilty for any of this stuff.”

“When you’re getting drunk with close friends in a familiar place, it’s one thing. When you go to some random frat house with a bunch of strange kids and you’re just trying to numb yourself in response to a shitty situation, that’s when there’s a problem. Trust me, I would know.”

“And I suppose you violating your parole with illegal drug use is perfectly alright!”

“I never claimed to be perfect, Caulfield! I’m just here to say you’re standing on the edge of a place you don’t want to go.”

Max was stunned to see this strange protective streak Nathan seemed to have about him. She wondered if that’s one of the reasons Victoria had been so attached to him. Funny he wasn’t pushing Victoria around the party, lecturing her to death, Max noticed bitterly. When asked this very question, Nathan only scowled and grumbled that Victoria knew better than to accept drinks from fuck-offs at parties.

Just as Nathan had earlier crossed a space boundary when he reached into her jacket, Max decided to do the same, opening up his center console. The hourglass was right on top, and she picked it up, turning it over in her fingers.

“The sand in there is from Arcadia Bay,” Nathan said suddenly, clearing his throat.

“Really?”

“Yeah. The box came with the two end pieces you screw onto the tube, and this baggie of sand you could pour into it. I didn’t use that. I went to the beach instead and sifted out a scoop of sand there.”

Max pondered this, continuing to turn the hourglass back and forth. “It worked better than anything my stupid therapist ever told me. I’ll probably start blowing it off.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You seem confident about that.”

“Nobody forced you to go the first time. You went because you wanted to get better. You had hope that somebody could help you.”

“My parents made me go,” Max answered.

He shook his head stubbornly. “You’re an adult. The only person that could have forced you is a judge.”

“Well, whatever,” Max said glumly. “The point is, I’m not getting better. It worked for Kate, hell, it even worked for you…somewhat.”

“Thanks,” he remarked dryly.

Max looked him in the eye and dissolved into giggles. Nathan looked taken aback before finally relaxing behind his steering wheel a bit.

“It’s not a big shocker that you’re not getting much out of therapy,” he continued. “Most people actually get to talk about all of their problems in confidence. You can’t exactly ask your therapist to help you through alternate memories that never technically happened and the weight of time travel on your shoulders, now can you? You couldn’t tell a single person about it without getting thrown in the nuthouse.”

Max’s jaw nearly dropped. That was it. That was exactly it. She wasn’t sure if it was the weed talking, but her mind was blown.

“How long are we gonna sit in the parking lot?” Nathan asked suddenly. They were parked.

“This is my dorm!” Max exclaimed.

Nathan gave the most sarcastic eye-roll she’d ever seen and threw his hands up. “Where the hell did you think I was taking you?” He turned in his seat, propping an arm up on the seat between them. “You gonna invite me in?”

Her face must have looked shocked because he smirked like the cat who got the canary. “What for?” she challenged.

He wordlessly held out a joint. He must have kept the damn things up his sleeves, because Max never once spotted their source.

“Fine, whatever.”

He locked his truck and stuck his hands in his pocket as he strolled across the grass to follow her. If it was weird to have Nathan Prescott going back to her dorm room with her, Max was a little too faded to notice terribly. It was happening nonetheless. She unlocked her door and rushed in ahead, shoving a pile of dirty laundry under her bed, stumbling when her foot caught the edge of her desk. _“Damn_ ,” she uttered.

Nathan, for whatever reason, had no problem making himself right at home, taking off his jacket and sprawling across the throw pillows on her couch. “Figures you’d have all these nerdy posters up,” he remarked.

“It’s still classier than bondage posters.”

Nathan froze as he was extracting the joint from his behind his ear. “Stop doing that,” he ordered with a serious face. This was Max’s third creepy slip-up.

“Sorry.” Sooner or later, she was going to have to fess up to having been snooping in his room in the alternate timeline. Max kicked her borrowed shoes off and collapsed heavily on the other edge of the couch.

This time he tossed the lighter to Max and handed her the joint. She flicked the lighter once, twice, and held the flame up to the tip of the paper, watching the end ignite. She tossed the lighter back to Nathan and quickly blew out the tiny flame on the joint. Lifting it to her face she took a sizeable drag and was disappointed to find that her throat still burned from smoking earlier and she coughed thickly. On her second try when she still shuddered from coughing so hard, Nathan couldn’t help releasing a small chuckle as he leaned forward and plucked the joint from between her fingers.

“You’re going to have to shotgun to avoid the cough,” he said plainly, inhaling deeply from the joint.

“Isn’t that where—”

Max didn’t get a chance to finish, on account of Nathan wrapping a hand around the back of her head and pulling her towards him, touching his lips carefully up to hers as he released the smoke against her mouth. Max tried to play it cool as she pulled away, blowing the smoke back out, but her heart was racing. Could he hear it?

He leaned back against the couch, fixating his gaze on the ceiling, and then on the wall of pictures next to her bed. She had retained this old habit of pinning up her photos from her dorm at Blackwell. She felt more vulnerable having him look at her pictures than having her lips on his.

Nathan pulled out his phone. It was vibrating. “Hello?...Yeah, she’s with me…We were just taking a break. Great influence you are, by the way…What? Who? He’ll survive…Then tell him to go fuck himself. Bye, Vic.”

“Who should go fuck himself?” she asked.

“Nobody important.”

Inhaling deeply once again, Nathan leaned forward with the joint. Max was a little better prepared. He wrapped his hand around the back of her head just as before, and when he stopped just as their lips touched to transfer the smoke, Max pressed against his mouth firmly as her hand curled around the fabric of his T-shirt, just to see what it would be like. She got all the smoke this time and pulled away from him to release it from her lungs. Realizing her fingers were still curled tightly around his shirt, she dropped her hand, embarrassed.  

Max wished just once that she could tell what he was thinking. His face gave away nothing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Nathan plays the 'mom friend' and Max is very childish when she is drunk :D
> 
> I'm staying about five chapters ahead of what I post, in case I need to make changes. Feel free to nudge me if I'm taking too long to update :p


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it turns out that writing the ending is taking forever! plus my work gets busiest during the summer so i've had extra things to do.  
> nonetheless, i'm putting up another chapter cause i love you guys.  
> i had to split it up because it was too giant, so don't be angry w me, i'll do my best to get part 2 up quickly  
> <3

* * *

 

This time it was Chloe's face she saw in her dreams. Her hair was crimson, rather than the turquoise and lilac that Max had long come to associate with her. Chloe was wearing Rachel Amber's plaid flannel, and she looked at Max in fury, her face contorted into an angry sneer. _"Way to fraternize with the enemy, Max."_

 _"Nathan's not the enemy!"_ she insisted. _"He's just trying to help us."_ Even as Max said this, she suddenly saw Nathan's fingers clasping the trigger on a handgun aimed at Chloe's chest.

 _"Why are you doing this?"_ Max pleaded with him.

He could not answer; his mouth was stitched shut, ugly lines jagged across his lips. His skin was as waxy as a ventriloquist's dummy's. When she looked closer, she realized Chloe's hair wasn't dyed crimson at all. It was laden with blood.

Max woke with a start.

She was on her couch instead of her bed. She was still dressed in Victoria’s clothes from the night before. Disoriented, she stumbled around to find her phone to check what time it was. Swiping at the drool trail on the side of her lips, she found her phone plugged into the charger on her desk. Nathan must have done that before he left.

Nathan! Max remembered everything from the night before in an instant, and her cheeks burned at the thought of kissing him. She didn’t remember him leaving, so she assumed he had done so after she fell asleep.

There were several texts from the previous night once she turned on the phone.

_**VC:** where tf did u go? Been looking everywhere for u_

_**VC:** Damien is still looking for u 2 ;)_

_**VC:** hello_

_**VC:** u went home with nathan??????? CALL ME BACK THIS SEC_

The flush in her face grew hotter. The last text was from Kate, and all it contained was a video link. She stretched her arms above her head, ignoring the ache in her head from drinking. Sitting at her laptop, she typed the link into her browser.

_MISSING BLACKWELL TEEN FOUND ALIVE_

_Holy shit…_

Max scanned the article. They found Tracy near the beach. Apparently she had managed to flag down a passing car for help, collapsing shortly after that. She was in bad shape and had been taken to the hospital. Max was tempted to get in her car and go back down to the Bay, but she realized the impracticality of trying to visit a minor in urgent care when she wasn’t related to her. Plus the police were probably going to bombard her with questions over the next few days. As much as Max wanted to see Tracy for herself, she had to stay put.

“Max Caulfield, why haven’t you called me back??” Victoria scolded her over the phone when she finally got back to her.

“I tried to text you before my phone died last night.”

“Where did you go?” Victoria was practically shrieking. “I called Nathan and he’s all ‘yeah, she’s with me,’ and I just about _died_. Tell me everything, you sneaky slut!”

“Victoria, that’s not funny,” Max chastised. “And it’s not like that, he just gave me a ride home. He was being so annoying about it.”

“But you guys left at like eleven-thirty!” Max heard laughter over the static in the line.

“Nothing happened,” Max insisted. “Remember who we’re talking about here.”

“Like he didn’t have the biggest stupid crush on you in high school…”

Max’s jaw dropped open.

“He did _not_!” Max insisted vehemently.

“Whatever. I wouldn’t know anything about that, I only hung around him twenty-four seven.” The sarcasm was quite pointed. “Why do you think I gave you so much shit all the time? I hated it when he paid attention to other people.”

Once again, Max was floored by Victoria’s directness. Now that they were friends, Victoria seemed to hold nothing back, dropping bombs in a nonchalant breeze. Max was tempted to argue that Nathan _hadn’t_ paid any attention to her in high school, but did not want to hear the personal details that were sure to follow if she did.

“Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you before I drove back to Arcadia Bay,” Victoria continued. Max didn’t bother to mention that she’d be back in the Bay just as soon as she thought she could visit Tracy Hernandez.

* * *

  
Max made a much better effort to pay attention in class and be on time on Monday. She managed to take some notes, and was definitely not at all thinking about Nathan.

In fact, she was concentrating so hard on not thinking about Nathan that she didn’t even notice when Damien approached her after English class.

“Hey, Max. What happened to you at that party?”

“Oh hey, Damien. I just had to leave, that’s all.”

“Check you out! Analog, huh?” he commented, picking up her camera and aiming it all around. “Come on, show me your mad photo skills.”

Max obliged him, snapping a photo and plucking the Polaroid out of the camera. “You’ll have to wait for it to develop.”

“Old school, I like it,” he smiled, showing off his dimples. “You down to party some more? My roommates and I were planning this kickback thing this weekend.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m all partied out after Saturday.”

“Your boyfriend wouldn’t like it, right?” His hand reached up to the back of his neck.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Damien let out an easy laugh. “Could have fooled me. Someone should have let that asshole know, then.”

Uncomfortable, she didn’t know what to say. He continued on. “When’s your next class? I was about to light up, you in?”

“No, thanks. I have a class pretty soon.”

He shrugged. “All the more reason, in my book. Well, I’ll text you the address in case you feel like taking a load off this Friday.”

“How did you get my number?”

“Victoria gave it to me. Is that all right?” His eyebrows furrowed together with worry.

“Oh, yeah, that’s okay. I guess I’ll see you around.”

“See you!”

Max suspected that she would not change her mind about Friday. Damien was cool and everything, but he would probably get the wrong idea if she accepted his invitation. Nathan would certainly get the wrong idea...Not that she cared what Nathan thought, she corrected herself quickly. Max kept forgetting that they were not supposed to be friends. His opinion of her was neither her business nor something she should aim to improve upon.

To distract herself on her way to class, Max thought about what Tracy Hernandez might say about her mysterious absence. Maybe she knew where the other missing kid, Brian, was. The anticipation was killing her as she imagined Tracy rightly pointing her finger at Sean Prescott. _I just know he's guilty._ He deserved to be brought to justice, he needed to learn that he couldn't hide behind his money forever.

When Max spotted Nathan on campus during school hours for the first time, she stopped in her tracks, the person walking behind her stumbling into her with an irritated _“Oof!”_

After apologizing and moving off of the sidewalk, she watched him from across the green expanse of lawn. He was with other people, two girls and a boy, and he did not see Max. It had never occurred to her that he hung out with anybody else, which was fairly ignorant she realized, thinking back on his large group of friends in high school. She had never seen him around here before, but she hadn’t known to look for him before now.

The other guy had his arm slung lazily over the shoulder of one of the girls, and the second girl stood close to Nathan. _Don’t they look like a cute couple of pairs_ , she thought bitterly. Nathan’s hair was styled back and he was smoking (what else was new?) The girl standing next to him was wearing dark purple lipstick, and she boldly pinched the cigarette out of his mouth and stole a drag. She was dressed in all black and there was something sensual in the way she moved as she returned his lipstick-stained cigarette, and Max felt an unfamiliar simmering in her chest. The guy that was with them said something, and they all laughed. Max watched with fascination as Nathan’s expression arranged itself into something almost carefree.

Feeling a bit like a voyeur, she continued on at a brisk pace to her next class.

* * *

  
On Wednesday, she drove back to Arcadia Bay. With all the gas money she spent driving back and forth, Max realized she wouldn’t have enough to buy more film this month. What she needed was a job, but she couldn’t think of that right now.

When she arrived at the hospital, she tugged her sleeves down and approached the desk.

“I’m looking for Tracy Hernandez’s room?”

The girl behind the desk tapped at her keyboard and answered, “324.”

Max nodded thanks and walked all the way back to the elevators, punching the 3 once she got inside. Like most hospitals, the place didn’t exactly radiate comfort. The drab watercolors and fake potted plants ended pretty much at the lobby, the rest of the halls blank and white. The pungent odor of lemon cleaner reached her nose.

Tracy wasn’t in urgent care anymore (Max wouldn’t have been allowed to visit if that were the case) but floor 3 still had a fair amount of bustle. Max did her best to stay out of the staff's way as she made her way down the hall.

She swallowed and hesitated at the door. What if Sean Prescott really hadn’t abducted her and the affair was just a coincidence? Maybe Max was wasting her time. She was probably in over her head.  

When she knocked on 324, it was met with silence. She gave the door a hesitant push. “Hello?”

Max saw the flowers first. At least a dozen bouquets were arranged throughout the room, interspersed with some balloons and stuffed animals. There were no other visitors in the room.

Tracy was sitting up in bed, staring at the wall. Unkempt waves of long, black hair cascaded down her shoulders. Her arm was in a cast, and there was a blankness in her eyes.

“Tracy?” Max waited, but she didn’t answer.

“I’m Max Caulfield, I-I went to your school.”

It wasn’t until she got closer that she saw the bruises, fading shades of green and blue. A minute went by and Max awkwardly shuffled her feet. “I’m really glad you’re…still with us.”

She did not so much as look at Max.

“Do you feel like talking?” she tried again. No response.

Max suddenly felt completely overwhelmed, as if she had swam into far deep of waters than she was capable of swimming in. This girl was broken and hurting and Max had thought she could come in and ask her painful questions about what had happened to her? Was her prejudice against Sean Prescott really so blind? This was something bigger than she could handle, and it wasn’t her place to pry.

Just as she turned to leave, a young nurse in salmon-colored scrubs entered. He crossed the room and checked Tracy’s chart and fiddled with the buttons on the machines monitoring her vitals.

“She said anything yet?” the nurse asked Max.

“Uh…no. Is she okay?”

“Medically, yes, now that the bone in her arm is set. We’re keeping an eye on her for a couple days while she rehydrates. She’s just not ready to talk yet, it seems. Police were kind of put out, but I suppose they’ll be in touch.”

Max glanced over nervously at Tracy. It felt weird to talk about her as if she wasn’t in the room, perfectly able to hear them.

“I’m really rooting for her,” the nurse continued, shaking his head. “I was hoping she’d say something else today, but there’s always tomorrow, right, Trace?” There was, of course, no answer.

“Something else?”

“Well, yeah. Besides what she said when she first came in.”

“What was that?”

He was looking at Tracy’s chart again, distracted. “I dunno, something about a dark room. Hey, are you waiting to talk to her dad? ‘Cause he just left to get coffee—”

Max didn’t hear him; she was already out the door.

Fear gripped her heart at what she’d stumbled upon. Jefferson was in prison, and his dark room boarded up. Why in the hell would she be talking about a dark room? Sean must have built another one or something, the bastard.

There was no way Max could leave it alone now. Even if she didn’t feel like she could go back again, she was going to have to. Back in the elevator, she pulled her phone out. She was going to need reinforcements.

* * *

  
The hike up to the lighthouse was a short one, but it took Max a while to get up nonetheless. She wanted to take her time. Kate said that she wouldn't be available to come to the hospital until tomorrow, so Max had a whole night to kill.

The birds sang cheerfully in the trees overhead. Tree limbs swayed contentedly in the breeze. It was easier to focus on the blue sky or the sounds of her surroundings than the disturbing revelation at the hospital.

As she neared the top of the trail, she braced herself mentally for the heartache to inevitably catch up to her, but it never did. She felt nostalgic, and rather somber, but her anguish at losing Chloe did not tear her apart the way she had anticipated. The lighthouse loomed above her and the wind tugged at her hair. The last time she had stood in this spot, she had made a decision that ended her best friend's life. Perhaps it was some primordial survival instinct that told Max to not dwell over the choices in the past, but to focus on how to live with the outcome. She sat on the bench nearby and watched the waves spill over onto the sand below.

After some time, Max’s phone buzzed.

_**NP:** did u see the news abt that girl? they found her_

_**MC:** :O Really?? So cool._

_**NP:** u home? come outside._

_**MC:** Sure, see you in 5_

_**NP:** …_  
_**NP:** ...ur already in arcadia bay arent u_

 _ **MC:** Maybe._  
_**MC:** How did you know?_

_**NP:** uve never agreed to come outside so easily_

_**MC:** You’re smarter than I thought, Prescott_

_**NP:** go fuck yourself caulfield, u were gonna just let me sit outside ur empty dorm.  
 **NP:** see u in 2 hrs_

When Nathan said he was driving to the Bay, Max’s stomach did that stupid flip-flop thing she hated so much, even as she told herself that he wasn’t coming specifically for her.

Later that evening Max met Nathan and Victoria at a Chinese restaurant called The Sizzling Wok. She felt refreshed after visiting the lighthouse, and realized she shouldn’t have put it off for so long.

The restaurant was small and brightly lit, the entire back wall painted with a mural of cherry blossom branches. Before Max sat down, she snapped a picture of it, tipping her camera to get the desired angle. They ordered their drinks and food, Max sitting with Victoria on one side of the booth, leaving Nathan the other seat to himself. Max felt relieved that nobody brought up the party. She was still somewhat put-out with Nathan.

“What brings you to the bay this week?” Victoria asked her.

“I’m going to visit Tracy at the hospital tomorrow.” Max squeezed some lemon into her iced tea as she spoke.

“You heard about that, huh? Why do you want to visit her?”

“I just want to talk to her, I guess.”

“Whoa, Max. You don’t even know this girl. You’re taking this a little seriously. We don’t even know if her disappearance was involuntary. Maybe she left on purpose. Did she tell you about her theory about your dad being responsible?” Victoria turned her attention to Nathan.

“I’m aware. She won’t listen to anything I have to say about it.” Nathan scooped the lemon out of his own tea with a fork and dropped it into Max’s glass.

“I know it’s weird for me to get involved,” Max admitted. “It’s just…a really good distraction from my own shit.”

Victoria did not press her.

When their food came, Max didn’t talk much more. Victoria reminisced about high school with Nathan, enjoying the complicated-looking arrangement of sushi she had ordered.

“It sucks that this place cards! I could go for some sake right about now.”

“I can do you one better,” Nathan remarked, pulling a baggie out of his jacket. “We can hotbox my truck.” He revealed two joints with a flourish, and Max only looked away unimpressed. Pass.

“You guys go ahead.”

“Where are you going?” Victoria exclaimed.

“Nowhere. Just gonna hang around.”

She ended up at her parents’ house, claiming she was in town visiting some friends. Her mom pulled a set of sheets out of the hall closet and fixed up Max’s old bed, telling her to keep the TV quiet, her dad had to get up early the next day. Max fibbed and said tomorrow’s class was cancelled when they asked why she was visiting friends during the middle of the school week.

Flipping aimlessly through the channels, Max wished she had brought her laptop. The TV flickered and cast shadows in the dark room. She fell into a fitful sleep an hour later.

Max was running through the hall at Blackwell Academy, Jefferson hot on her trail. The needle was cold and sharp and pierced her skin. She could feel hands on her, dragging her down through the floor with the blink of a camera flash. Rachel’s face appeared, staring up at her from the ground in the junkyard, begging to be unearthed. The rotten smell of dead flesh assailed her nostrils as Max dug frantically in the wet soil, faster and faster and faster until her fingernails ripped and were caked in earth. Jefferson came from behind her and shoved her head down into the dirt, pressing her face first into Rachel’s grave, covering her with more mounds of soil.

When Max’s phone went off and jarred her from sleep, her shirt was sticking to her skin, the TV softly playing some infomercial for a knife set.

Grateful that she had been woken up from her dream, she slid her shaking thumb across her screen.

_**NP:** why were u weird earlier_

Even half asleep, Max rolled her eyes and flopped back on her pillow.

_**MC:** I wasn’t weird. Just tired._

_**NP:** bullshit_

_**MC:** Think what you want._

_**NP:**   where r u?_

_**MC:** Parent’s. Sleeping._

_**NP:** ur not asleep, ur texting me. give me the address_

In the end, Max relented. Nathan had been acting so strangely since she’d met him again that Max had come to expect this erratic behavior out of him. The darkness pressed around her, threatening to creep back into her dreams, and talking to Nathan sounded better than going back to sleep and having another nightmare. Using the light of her phone, she slipped on her jeans and jammed her feet into her shoes. In the bathroom she brushed her teeth and stared at her reflection in the mirror. One of her mom’s lipsticks was sitting on the counter. The girl with the dark purple lipstick appeared in Max’s head, and she thought of how she had so brazenly taken Nathan’s cigarette from him.

Uncapping the tube, she ran the lipstick across her lips in two clean swipes. It was a bold shade of red, and it was much too bright for her. She looked like a clown. Feeling utterly stupid, she scrubbed at her mouth before heading back to the living room to wait for Nathan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is wasteland-frenzy if you're bored or want to hmu


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I switch perspectives several times in this chapter, it is just too fun to write from Nathan's POV. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

 

When she saw a flash of headlights through the front window, she snuck outside. The night was foggy with a chill in the air, and she caught herself shivering when she slid into the front seat of Nathan’s truck. Music was playing for once, something angry with a lot of guitar.

“So why’d you dip out at the restaurant?” Nathan asked, turning the heat up and opening the vents. Max was too suspicious to be touched by the gesture.

“I just had things to do.”

“I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Why did you wake me up?”

He smirked when she changed the subject, and she felt a flutter in her stomach.

“I’m going to look into it further, but I found something concerning my dad. Some documents about the building plans for the, uh…underground bunker.” He cleared his throat.

He obviously meant the dark room. Max couldn’t believe he’d bothered to censor himself.

“What kind of documents?”

“Invoices from the construction company, mostly. Nothing incriminating, but I have a hunch about there being more stashed away. I guarantee he tried to clear out what he could before the cops raided the place. I’ve been trying to check up on him—”

“Wait a minute,” Max said suddenly. “You didn’t just happen to run into me getting chased by your father’s henchman, you were following him, too! You admit he’s up to something!” Thrilled at this revelation, a grin stretched across her face at having caught him.

He cleared his throat again and had the good graces to look guilty as that sideways smirk crept back onto his face. Max thought he looked especially hot with that confident smile. _Whoa, I did not just think that._ She was immensely relieved that she had the cover of night to hide her blush.

“Yeah, so sue me. Not _up to something_ , necessarily, but I think he knows something he’s not letting on.”

“Say he did keep stuff from the dark room. Why wouldn’t he destroy it if it was incriminating?”

“Look, I’m not saying it’s incriminating. He's quite...resourceful and tends to hang on to many random pieces of information. I know him, and if he can use anything against people, he will."

“How are you looking into it further?” Max asked him.

Nathan looked hesitant to answer. “I have to go through his office.”

Max frowned. “That sounds risky. Do you even go back home anymore?”

“Not really. I go sometimes under the pretense of visiting my mother. It’s how I’ve been picking up details about this.”

“I’ll go with you. I could help.”

“Not in a thousand fucking years. You’re not going anywhere near my house.”

“Come on, I’m great at snooping.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Tell that to Andre.”

“That was tailing in a car, this is different.”

“Forget it, Caulfield.”

Silence pressed in on them. This was the first time they’d been alone since the party, and he hadn’t teased her about it or even mentioned it, for that matter. She supposed he was used to far more explicit encounters than their rather chaste kiss and had registered theirs as a mere blip on his radar. Most importantly, she was still frustrated that she cared so much. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was the first person since Chloe whom she had told about her rewind ability. Not only that, but he had experienced it for himself. However strange a common denominator it was, it existed nonetheless.

* * *

  
As soon as Max had confessed that she rewound time just like he could, Nathan knew he was fucked. Hell, he knew it when she admitted to having seen the storm and the dead whales. It was a subject they had to breach again sooner or later, but in the meantime all Nathan could think about was Max Caulfield. What was the significance of two people randomly getting identical, impossible abilities?

He could imagine the things his old friends would have called him, knowing the sheer amount he had shamelessly texted her and followed her around. It was safe to say he had a problem. He couldn’t believe his good fortune when she had actually agreed to come meet him in the middle of the night. His excuse for dragging her out of bed was so vague and flustered he couldn’t believe she was still sitting there, honestly.

When Max had gotten into his truck, her hair still mussed from sleeping, he spotted a smear of lipstick on the side of her face. It had clearly been very hastily wiped away, and Nathan found this so wholly charming he’d had to contain himself to keep from grinning like a fucking idiot.

They had begun arguing immediately, which is when Nathan felt most comfortable around her. He greatly enjoyed to watch the color rise in her cheeks when she was being teased. It was one of his favorite things about her.

There was something off with Max, there had been ever since he had driven her home from the party. It had been a mistake, inviting himself into her dorm room. She had not been of sound mind, and he knew she would never have let him come in if she was sober. When she had grabbed ahold of his shirt and pressed her lips against his in so experimental a way, he’d known he fucked up big time. She was probably still furious that he had taken advantage like that. It was a mystery why she’d come at all, considering she was obviously mad about _something._

She was pouting in her seat when he refused to take her to the Prescott estate, and he fumbled with where to actually take her. He settled on the beach; at least they would have a good view. He took a joint out of his center console and offered to light it.

“No, thanks,” she said stiffly.

“What’s the problem?”

“I don’t want any.”

“That certainly wasn’t your sentiment the other night.”

“Well, it’s my sentiment _now_.”

He put it away and fiddled with the radio. What the fuck kind of music did she like? He tried to find something neutral.

“I find it funny that you keep offering me weed after all those ridiculously misguided lectures about my life choices. You’re the one who was popping pills the minute our conversation turned a little unconventional, and yet I’m the one trying to ‘numb myself to my surroundings,’” she blurt out.

He raked his fingers through his hair. She was pissed because he hadn’t apologized for going off at the party. He wasn’t prepared to convey the feeling in his chest after Victoria had sent him that picture of them. The look on Max’s face had been glossy and sluggish. He knew that face. It wasn’t a face he had ever expected to see on Max Caulfield.

Nathan had been at that party in ten minutes flat. Sure enough, he found Max tipsy and letting some fucking trash named Dylan mack all over her. When he had unleashed on her driving home, it had come from a different place than she was probably thinking.

“Look, I’m fucking sorry, okay? I wasn’t trying to be a hypocrite.” Nathan could feel his teeth clenching as he forced out the words. That was it; that was all she was getting. She’d have to pry the words _'I got jealous'_ out of his dead, frozen lips. He would take that to the grave.

Apparently Max accepted his apology, because she leaned back in her seat and changed the subject. “Do you miss Arcadia Bay?” she asked, cracking her window to let some ocean air in. She zipped her jacket up further and rested her arms behind her head, content.

“I’m in Arcadia Bay right now.”

“Smartass. I mean to live in.”

Nathan shrugged. “It’s cool, I guess. I just don’t want to be around my parents.”

“Not the best home life, huh?” She knew very well about his home life, but was probably just being polite.

“You could say that.” He swallowed. “My dad…he’s just a fucking dickwad. My sister left as soon as she could. Couldn’t take the yelling or the fighting. My mom pretty much ignored me and nobody cared that I didn’t want to take over my dad’s business. Said I was too fucking crazy to do anything else, that I should stay close to the family where I was _understood_. Where my father could fix my mistakes for me.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

Nathan shifted uncomfortably at her frankness, knowing that when she said that she absolutely meant it in her heart. He didn’t know how to respond to the intimacy with which it was said.

“Tell me how you knew about my sister. Vic didn’t tell you shit.”

“No.” Her voice was firm.

“Max.”

He could have sworn he saw a tremor run through her, but she shook her head defiantly. “Let me come with you to break into your father’s office.” Incredulous, he stared at her. She never eased up once she got an idea in her stubborn head.

He finally gave in, starting his truck engine.

* * *

  
The Prescott estate was quite an impressive sight. Max couldn’t admire much of the architecture in the dark, but the house was covered in green foliage, an expensive-looking fountain bubbling in the center of their circular driveway. Nathan had parked further back and they proceeded on foot. Max pulled the collar of her jacket up around her neck, trying to fend off the crisp, night air.

“We’re not actually breaking in,” Nathan explained to her. “I’m using my key to open the door, and we have to avoid waking anybody up.”

“Doesn’t your dad have cameras in the house?”

“I’ll turn ‘em off.”

They veered off to the left and trudged through some thick greenery until they reached a wrought-iron gate. Nathan unlocked it with a little key on his keyring. It swung open without a squeak, and he held it open for her. There were no lights on in the backyard but Max saw the glittering swimming pool in the moonlight.

Next to the fusebox was a separate gray box that had an exorbitant amount of wires interlaced within. Nathan threw a switch and tugged at a few cords, unplugging something that looked important.

“Hurry,” he ordered.

They slipped in through the back door, a thick wooden one with huge, colored glass panes set in the shape of a rose. He led them through a skinny hallway and through the kitchen. They went past the main staircase, a giant, sprawling thing with polished banisters, and all the way to other side of the house where Nathan led them up a smaller, more inconspicuous set of stairs. Once on the second floor, Max stopped to admire a handsome face in an antique oil painting. Looking up at the tall ceilings, she pictured Nathan running up and down the corridor as a kid.

Nathan wrapped his fingers around hers and pulled her down the hall. Max ignored her rapid heartbeat and counted two left turns and a right. He skidded to a halt in front of a double set of wooden doors, and Max bumped right into the solid wall of his back.

“It’s not locked?” she whispered.

He put a finger on her lips and shook his head no. He didn’t talk at all until they were safely inside, the door clicking softly shut behind them.

“Nobody would dare come in here. He’s too confident for a lock,” he whispered. “Or maybe the word I'm looking for is cocky. Put _everything_ back where you find it.”

Max wondered what it must have been like to grow up in this house. It felt like a museum.

Sean Prescott’s office was gaudy, with distasteful sculptures and an obnoxiously narcissistic portrait of himself hung above his giant desk. She shifted papers around, using the light on her phone to see as she opened drawers and checked the bookcase. Most of it was boring legal paperwork, and she stifled a yawn after about eight minutes. There were several drawers in Sean’s file cabinet that were locked. Max was thinking of a way to get inside them when Nathan grabbed her attention, having lifted the ugly painting of Sean to reveal a safe built in to the wood paneling on the wall.

 “If there’s stuff he doesn’t want anyone seeing, it’ll be in here,” Nathan said. He frowned at the keypad on the safe. “It’s a date. He always set his passwords as a date, _always_.”

They looked everywhere for the combination. Max combed his desk for any personal details that might give it away, but Sean Prescott didn’t have so much as a picture of his wife in terms of ‘personal details.’ She suggested brainstorming vacation dates, or dates regarding Nathan and his sister. They tried five different combinations with no success, the light blinking red each time, and Max could tell Nathan was getting impatient.

He raked his fingers through his hair. “He changes it every so often, but it’s got to be some significant day. This thing is probably gonna shut us out if we get too many wrong answers.” He chewed his lip nervously.

A crazy idea came to Max’s head, and she reached her arm past him, breathing in the scent of deodorant and faint marijuana smoke, and entered four numbers into the safe.

The light turned green, and they were in.

The shock on Nathan’s face was palpable. “What date did you put in?”

“The day…the day you were arrested.”

The look on his face led Max to reach out and put her hand on his shoulder.

He shook her off and immediately stuck his head in the safe, poking around the many documents. He sifted through the titles and deeds to properties he owned, family birth certificates, and such. He came across a manila folder, placed carefully in its own separate compartment. It was labeled _Jefferson_ on the tab in red marker, and Max sucked in her breath.  When they shook out the paper inside, it was just a sheet with a long list of numbers.

“These are IP addresses,” Max said, noting the location of the dots.

“Take a picture of it,” he ordered.

She hesitated. “What?”

“We can’t take the paper, he’ll notice. What’s the problem?”

Shaking her head, she answered, “Nothing, I’m almost out of film. It’s nothing.” She was being stupid. She lined up the frame and snapped two pictures, the flash blinding them.

As Nathan was putting the folder back where it belonged, he spotted fat rolls of bills in the back of the safe. He neatly peeled three crisp bills off the wad and pocketed them. Max scoffed at him.

“What?" Nathan said defensively. "Do you see all that cash? He won’t miss three measly hundreds.”

He pushed the door of the safe shut and returned the portrait to its place. They were halfway done, the hard part was over.

Nathan and Max left the office, switching back to stealth mode as they crept down the hallway. They were almost to the back staircase when they heard distinct footsteps approach them, the sound echoing in the big hall.

Max’s stomach flip-flopped and she felt a rush of adrenaline in her veins. Nathan seized her hand again and they ran the way they had just come from, Nathan pulling open a door and directing her behind it, quick and silent as a cat.

Max was expecting some sort of pantry or towel closet, but it was a large room with a double bed, a bureau, and a computer desk. A flatscreen TV was mounted on the opposite wall. Once Max spotted a black and white photo collage above the bed, recognition dawned. “This is your room!” she whispered.

“Yes. Shut up so we don’t get caught.”

* * *

  
Clearly the girl had a burning curiosity because she would not stop trying to look at everything in Nathan’s room. He’d had a hard enough time keeping her focused in the rest of his house, but this was too much. He stilled her fingers as she tried to investigate his desk drawers. He did not want her poking around in there.

Some clouds shifted outside, and the light from the moon shone in through his window. Max began to look nervous and he could see her face turning red in the dim moonlight as his hand still rested over hers. Her gaze flicked down to his lips and she looked immediately embarrassed, looking away. So transparent.

“I’m not going to kiss you, so you can calm down.” Nathan could not keep the bitterness from his voice. He turned away, disgusted.

“W—Why not?” she demanded.

Max could not have picked a more shocking thing to say. Nathan fought within an inch of his life to keep a straight face. There had to at least be a vein sticking out somewhere.

“I mean,” she continued, “you don’t have to insult me. Just because I don’t wear a lot of makeup like Victoria or some other girls you know doesn’t mean I’m a cave troll—”

She stopped because he had dissolved into stifled peals of laughter. She was _jealous_. As he lived and breathed, Max Caulfield was fucking jealous of him hanging out with other girls. He felt like he could dance in the street. He wanted to drive over to cheesedick’s house and give him two middle fingers while he spun his tires into his lawn.

Max looked on at his laughter in fury. Her jaw was tight and her eyes glittered dangerously. She looked like she very much wanted to suckerpunch him. He loved it.

By the time he simmered down she had crossed her arms and moved to the other side of his room, pretending unconvincingly to read the spines of his books.

“I wouldn’t try because I know you only kissed me because you were wasted. I’m not stupid, okay? So just forget about it.”

She whirled on him, struggling to keep her voice lowered. “I didn’t kiss you because I was wasted, you stupid ass!”

“Be quiet,” he warned.

_“You are such a—”_

He covered her mouth with his own, effectively silencing her. Later, he would try to get off on a technicality. If he hadn’t kissed her, she would have given them away for sure. He was merely maintaining their cover.

Her hands were on his chest as he gripped her arms. Nathan fully expected Max to shove him away and begin lecturing him immediately, but he was utterly astonished to find her lips were moving just as eagerly against his. She relaxed instantly, leaning into him and _fuck_ , she smelled like fruit and vanilla and rain and he couldn’t resist sliding his hand up to feel her hair and the soft skin on the back of her neck.

They backed up against the wall and Max threaded her fingers in his hair. He tipped her chin at the angle he wanted it and his other hand strayed to the exposed bit of skin at the hem of her shirt. It was so warm and inviting that his hand moved further up her shirt, which then prompted her to give a little jump as she pulled back. Only then did Nathan remember himself, moving away from her and turning slightly as he regained his composure. He sincerely hoped she did not notice him adjust his jeans before they faced each other again.

They had long overstayed their welcome. It was time to leave.

* * *

  
Max’s legs were jelly and Nathan wanted her to run back through his enormous-ass house.

He was crazy.

The kiss he planted on her had radiated all the way down her spine, causing a tightening between her legs when he had pinned her against that wall. His lips were soft and his body was hard and Max wanted nothing more than to explore the sensations that this invoked, however, she snapped out of it as they headed down the back staircase again. As they turned the corner they both heard the footsteps again and Nathan jerked her the other direction. “Front door,” he mouthed.

For some reason she was hot, and couldn’t wait to step out of the house into the chill and bask in their victory.

They were so close to the exit. Right as Nathan passed the main staircase, a shadow advanced on him, cuffing him between the shoulder blades. Nathan stumbled to his knees with a disgruntled cry.

“Why the fuck are you sneaking around the house, you worthless little shit?” Sean Prescott’s voice was ragged with liquor.

“I was getting some fucking CDs,” he spat. Nathan held up a handful of discs that Max hadn’t seen him take out of his room.

“Bullshit, in the middle of the night?”

“Is it any big surprise that I would try to avoid running into _you_?”

Max's heart leapt up into her throat at his bold words and immediately feared Sean's temper. She stepped out from behind the corner, hoping to quell the dispute.

They saw her, and the look in Sean’s eyes was not a good one and Nathan reached behind him to push her further and further back away from them.

“We’re leaving,” Nathan said firmly.

“You’re fucking right, you’re leaving. Get the fuck out.” His voice echoed in the large halls and Max cringed.

Sean was loaded like a spring, and when Nathan moved to walk past him, he snapped, uncoiling in one deft movement as he seized Nathan by the collar with one hand and sunk the other fist into the side of his ribcage. “Think again before creeping around here in the middle of the night, I’ll know about it and you’ll live to regret it.” Nathan’s breathing was heavy as Sean retreated like a storm cloud in the wind.

Max blanched at the sight of the violence Sean exhibited against his own son. She moved to Nathan instantly, reaching for him even as he turned his body away from her in a clear rejection. His shoulders slumped inwards as he shook her off angrily, walking towards the front door.

He strode across the driveway and the long trail of grass that led to the street. Max struggled to keep up with him.

Once they were back in the truck Max tried to broach the subject.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he snapped.

Her heart was still racing with adrenaline from the encounter. Nathan’s breathing was sounding heavier and she retrieved his hourglass from the console. She set it up on his dashboard and watched the sand fall through, turning it once the granules had finished making their descent.

After she scooted over to him in the seat, he hung his head. “Why don’t you hate me?” he whispered in the dark.

“What?”

“Why don’t you hate me for what happened to Chloe?”

She thought about what Kate had told her about forgiveness. She thought about all the other times she’d had to save Chloe. It could just as easily have been the train, or Jefferson, or the morphine. “…It’s not that simple. Life has a vast gray area, and I think sometimes things just don’t line up the way we want them to.”

He didn’t say anything else, and they reclined their seats while he opened the sunroof, watching the stars blink at them in the black stretch of sky.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the long wait but I was suffering from a bout of writer's block. I *finally* have a finished outline, so it should be easier for me to write the scenes.  
> Thanks for the support and everyone who kept in touch the last three months!

* * *

 

It was amazing watching Kate at the hospital the next morning. She knew just what to say to Tracy, her voice sweet and gentle as she introduced herself and told her why they were there. Kate was like a teddy bear, all hugs and kind words. After mere minutes, Tracy was notably more receptive than the last time Max had been to visit.

Max was sorry to say that she had resorted to some slight duplicity regarding her motives for questioning Tracy. If Kate knew that Max was planning on looking for Brian herself, she would never have agreed to talk to Tracy. Max had mentioned only that Tracy was having a hard time since she'd been back and wouldn't it be easier on her if she had a friendly ear to listen first before she had to face the cold interrogation room at the local station?

Now, tears gathered in Tracy's eyes, glistening brightly as Kate squeezed her hand.Tracy ducked her head and began whispering urgently to Kate. Max felt suddenly like she was intruding, and left the two girls to speak alone.

Max knew it had been a good idea to call in reinforcements.

Out in the hallway, she sagged against the doorframe, waiting for Kate to come out. Coffee sounded good. Maybe she would try to hunt down some coffee.

She had woken curled up in Nathan's front seat that morning, the first hints of orange light splashed across the sky through the sunroof above her head. Their seats were still reclined back, and Nathan’s chest was rising and falling steadily in sleep. Max leaned forward and studied the way the sunlight played off of the golden tones in his hair. Feeling a sudden urge to reach out and run her fingers through it, she caught herself at the last minute. She was acting like a creep! Shaking Nathan awake, she told him to drop her back off at her parent’s house so she could get her car.

He was headed back to Portland, muttering something about an exam he couldn’t miss. Max realized it had been irresponsible to ditch her classes in the middle of the week, but she wasn’t going to be able to focus on anything else until she had some answers. They hadn’t had time to develop a plan concerning the mysterious list of IP addresses they had stolen from Sean’s safe, but Nathan promised he would look into it.

Handing him one of the Polaroids she had taken of the IP list, she tried and failed to not think about their kiss in his old bedroom the previous night. Sean Prescott had effectively chased away any lingering romantic thoughts that particular evening, but it had still happened, and neither of them seemed willing to bring it up.

What had she been thinking, challenging him like that with a "Why not?" Max had been unexpectedly slighted when he informed her so vehemently that he wouldn't be kissing her, and insecurity had reared its beastly head. What was so wrong with her? He needn't have said it in so disgusted a tone. Not that Max cared what Nathan thought of her, she quickly reminded herself.

And then he'd had the nerve to laugh at her! She'd been getting ready to deliver a severe verbal lashing when Nathan had covered her mouth so abruptly with his. He certainly didn't kiss her like he thought she was a cave troll, she speculated. His lips had been awfully soft...

Max was yanked violently from her daydream when she nearly ran into a coffee vending machine at the end of the hall. She fed the machine some dollars and punched at a couple buttons after resting one of the styrofoam cups under the spout. Wrapping her fingers around the steaming cup after it finished dispensing, she found her way back to Tracy's room and continued to wait.

Max pondered over the easy familiarity that Nathan had exercised with her from practically day one. And, what's worse, she _obliged_ it! She had come out of the library and into his truck that day, she had agreed to let him drive her home after the party, and so it had continued. He hadn't forced Max to do any of that. She could have just as easily slammed the proverbial door in his face and continued to rebuff his attempts to contact her.

The thing was, Max hadn't _wanted_ to shut him out. Even before he revealed that they shared the ability to rewind time, she had felt inexplicably drawn to him the whole time. Max could only discern from Nathan's constant pursuit of her company that he felt something of the same about her. That thought swirled the butterflies that had taken up residence in her gut. Really, though, did her body have to betray her in such a juvenile, ridiculous way? He was just a guy, after all. In fact, she ought to be repulsed by him, she told herself with resolve. Just because he'd been dealt a bad hand didn't excuse his monstrous behavior in high school.

Despite all that, her heart had wrenched for him after their encounter with Sean Prescott. What a bastard he was.

Hearing about it from Victoria was one thing, but witnessing it herself had been another thing entirely. She could tell it bothered Nathan that she'd been there to see.

When she checked her phone to see if Nathan had texted her (he hadn't), Max noticed a voicemail. Her phone had been on silent.

"Hello, Max. This is Wendy Stern, and I wanted to make sure everything was okay since you missed another appointment yesterday. Your mother has already paid me four months in advance, and I would really love to see you move forward. Please don't hesitate to call me if you need to talk about anything."

Max did not want to go back to Dr. Stern. She was having a much better go of it since she had visited the lighthouse, and even felt like she could finally visit Chloe at the cemetery. It made sense that she should share this with Dr. Stern, but the thought of sitting in her quiet office surrounded by too many pastels and having the hawk-like gaze of her therapist on her sounded absolutely suffocating.

The door swung open and Kate finally emerged. She straightened her sweater and gave Max a dismal stare.

 

* * *

  
Tracy Hernandez had not left school of her own volition.

Tracy had been forcibly abducted, and manhandled into the trunk of some car.

Whoever it was worked alone, and was never without a full set of long-sleeved clothing, complete with gloves and a mask whenever Tracy had the fortune of removing her blindfold. Not a word was uttered by the mystery assailant.

With some careful questioning, it was ascertained that Sean Prescott was unlikely to have been the kidnapper, as Tracy reckoned the kidnapper was much too small in stature. Max had sensibly left out the part where Tracy had been sleeping with Sean, and had asked Kate to ask about Sean under the pretense of following the police's first lead.

The rest of Tracy's memories were mostly blurs of the tiny closet she'd been stuffed unceremoniously into for the majority of the time she'd been missing. Tracy could not remember much else, leading them to believe she had been drugged for at least part of the time.

Her kidnapper often lost their temper, and Tracy had suffered the worst of her injuries the day before her escape.

None of the information was definitive of anything, and yet Max felt extremely lucky to have obtained it just the same. "Is she going to tell this all to the police?" she asked Kate as they climbed into Max's car.

"Yes," Kate breathed, relief visible on her face. "She said she wants to help them find Brian, and she wants whoever did this to be caught no matter what."

"Did she mention seeing Brian?"

"No, actually. But she was in that closet most of the time, he could have been somewhere else in the building. She couldn't even tell where they were keeping her."

"Most of the time?" Max echoed. "Where was she taken when she wasn't in there?"

"She wouldn't tell me."

"Well, still, it's amazing that you got her to tell you anything at all."

Kate shrugged her shoulders. "I told her that I just wanted to help her, and that I had been hurt once, too. It helped that you told me about the dark room she mentioned. I was able to tell her a little about my experience, and she really opened up to me. At first, she just wanted to listen to me talk, and she was very eager to hear the Bible passages that I had marked."

"Did she say anything else at all?"

"Not really. She was still kind of a mess. They barely fed her the whole time."

"That is so sick," Max said. "What did they want with her? Is there some Jefferson copycat out there?"

"I wish I knew."

"How did she escape?"

Kate shook her head. "She didn't want to talk about it, but she _insisted_ that some sort of miracle allowed her to free herself. She was adamant, and then she said she wanted to come to church with me next week."

"That's great to hear, Kate. I'm so glad Tracy is okay. Thanks for agreeing to come with me. I was in way over my head. It just...reminded me so much of our senior year. I couldn't stand the though of another girl suffering alone, like Rachel Amber. I hope she's able to find some semblance of peace."

"Me, too."

* * *

  
Max's desire to get to the bottom of the IP addresses outweighed her embarrassment at having returned Nathan's unsolicited kiss with such inexplicable enthusiasm, and she texted him immediately upon returning to Portland.

He didn't answer, so she continued on her way to her dorms and was surprised to find a small box resting outside her door. Max looked around, as if the person responsible for leaving it was still lingering in the hallway. There was nobody. Confused, she picked it up and shook it a little bit before unlocking the door and kicking it shut behind her.

She ripped the tape with her fingernails and dumped the contents of the package onto her bed. Four little boxes of instant film spilled out onto her blankets. She frowned. Did her parents send them? Inspecting the box carefully, she found there was no stamp or address written on it. It had not come in the mail.

Her frown deepened as she remembered that Nathan knew she was low on film.

Max had time to shower and feign studying for her classes before Nathan finally texted her back.

_**NP:** i was in exam. u back?_

_**MC:** Yes. Talked to Tracy _

_**NP:** meet me. anderson dorm_

Max frowned and pulled up a map of the campus. Anderson was all the way on the other side. It was no wonder they hadn’t crossed paths before.

The sky was gray and cloudy, and by the time Max had completed her long trek across campus, she was slightly damp from the light sprinkles that the clouds had spat out. She was saved the trouble of tracking down his specific room inside the building as she spotted Nathan perched upon a stone bench outside of the dorms, an ever present cigarette between his fingers. He was wearing the charcoal colored jacket that he seemed to be so fond of, and those jeans that hugged him in all the right places. Max tried not to stare as she approached. Nathan let out a thin stream of smoke and crushed the cigarette underfoot before she reached him.  

Something was wrong, she realized as she lowered herself onto the bench next to him. Maybe it was the way he was holding himself, stiff and uncomfortable, as if he couldn’t even stand being in his own skin. His jaw was tight and his leg was moving more agitatedly than usual.

“Did you have a chance to look into that list?” she asked.

“No. I’ve barely been home long enough. I told you, I had to take an exam.” He kept his gaze trained near the parking lot, distracted.

“Well, I was thinking that I might pass the list along to Warren Graham. He’s the best person I can think of to make something of it.”

Now Nathan turned his attention fully to Max. “You still talk to that imbecile? Dude had a hard on for wizards and aliens and shit.”

“At least try to pretend like we’re out of high school. He happens to be a close friend,” she informed him. He shifted on the bench, muttering incoherently under his breath. Max rolled her eyes at his childish antics.

“Did you leave me this film?” she asked bluntly as she lifted the strap to her camera bag over her head.

His steely eyes stared straight ahead. “Might’ve.”

“Well, don’t…buy me things.”

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.” There was little intensity behind this statement, he just sounded moody, as usual.

Max stared at him a beat longer, observing his odd body language.

“Is something bothering you?”

He let out a dry scoff and did not answer, instead fidgeting with his jacket zipper. It looked to Max like he wanted another cigarette, as was his tendency when she asked him irritating questions.

“So you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Just leave it, Caulfield.”

She wondered if it had something to do with the incident the night before. Without arguing further, she dropped it, instead filling him in on Kate’s successful interview with Tracy Hernandez. He was not surprised to hear that according to her, Sean was off the hook. What he was immensely bothered by was Tracy's mention of a dark room.

His eyes narrowed darkly, and Max knew he was thinking of Jefferson. “Why would she say that name?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I was wondering.”

She shivered and eyed the thick trees that lined the campus, as if expecting Jefferson to viciously leap out at them.

“Let’s get out of the rain,” she said.

“No. I have to be somewhere,” he said abruptly. “I’ll text you.”

Unbidden, Max’s stomach flipped over like it did every time Nathan said he would call or text her. So irritating!

Max was already halfway back to her dorm room when she realized with a start that she had forgotten her camera bag on the bench. She practically sprinted back, hoping to get there before somebody snatched it up.

There it was, draped across the bench they had been sitting at. She repositioned her bag across her shoulder and almost didn’t notice Sean Prescott sauntering into the Anderson dorm building with a menacing grimace.

Max froze. Did Nathan know he was here? She supposed if he did not, he would know soon enough; Sean was clearly headed for his room. Max felt a strong urge to run in after him, to demand to know what he wanted with Nathan. Unfortunately, she felt an almost equal urge to run away.

Nathan had told her repeatedly to stay out of it, and to steer clear of Sean, and so she reluctantly headed back to her dorm, deciding to text him instead.

_**MC:** I just saw your dad go into your building. Everything ok?_

She waited and there was no answer. To distract herself, she studied the Polaroid she had taken the night before and typed the IP addresses into her laptop. She sent the list in an email to Warren, explaining the nature of her problem and wondering if there was anything he could do.

Minutes later her phone went off and she seized it immediately, heart fluttering.

It was only Warren.

_**WG:** Hacking isn’t necessarily my strong suit, and there's not much here to go off. Lemme talk to some of my programming buddies. I’ll see what I can do._

 

* * *

  
Concern blossomed into worry the longer Max stewed in her dorm as rain pounded against her window. She had given up on classwork and was now flat-out pacing the small room, feeling as if there were a large pit in her stomach. An hour had passed. Had Nathan known that Sean was going to be visiting him today? He had seemed especially agitated on the bench. What did Sean want with Nathan? If what Max witnessed last night was a regular exchange between them, then Sean’s presence at their school was toxic.

His phone rang and rang and rang, until an automated woman prompted her to please leave a message at the tone.

Deciding that she could stand it no longer, Max put on her thickest socks and buttoned her coat all the way up to her neck. A quick rummage through her drawers produced her green umbrella, and she set off immediately in the rain.

She managed to keep her head dry, but water splashed up around her feet, soaking the legs of her jeans. Her imagination ran wild with the worst-case scenarios, such as Sean discovering that they had broken into his safe last night. Max shuddered to think what he would do. Her shoes began to make a wet, squelching sound with each step, and the wind sprayed rainwater under her umbrella.

Max wasn’t altogether sure what had sparked this sudden determination, all she knew was that it was driving her furiously through the rain with no plan or strategy if she did happen upon Sean Prescott, except maybe to call the cops.

Realizing instantly that she had never learned Nathan’s room number, she faltered a little as she entered the building. She was relieved to find, however, that the residents’ names had been neatly printed on the doors courtesy of a labelmaker. Probably the work of some overzealous RA.

Quickly roaming the halls and scanning all the doors, she had no luck. He wasn’t on this floor. She bounded up the stairs two at a time. A burst of laughter sounded to her right upon reaching the second floor. A group of guys were gathered around somebody’s open door, music blaring above the rising voices. Hoping she wouldn’t end up having to maneuver around them, she tried to the left.

Ah! Number 21 read _Nathan Prescott._

She thumped heavily on the door.

“Nathan?” She knocked again. Glancing over her shoulder, she hoped she wouldn’t draw attention to herself. “Nathan, are you in there?”

“Go the fuck away,” a muffled voice sounded from inside the room after she knocked a third time.

“Open the door.”

When he didn’t answer, she tried the knob, relieved when it gave way under her hand. Inside it was dark, too dark for her to see anything, and she squinted her eyes, adjusting from the brightly lit hallway.

“Get out.” Nathan’s voice was deadly quiet.

He was sitting on the floor next to a computer desk, completely slumped over. A quick scan of the room revealed that Sean was nowhere to be found, thankfully.

“What happened to you? Did your dad come see you?”

“I said _leave_ ,” his voice rose, clipped and hardened.

Glass crunched underneath her shoes and her eyes were drawn to the nightstand lying on its side nearby. It looked as if it had been flung in a fit of rage.

“Nathan, what happened here?”

She crouched beside him and he flinched away when she laid a hand on his shoulder. For whatever reason, she felt no apprehension concerning his foul temper. Her eyes began to adjust a little better to the dimness. Except for the overturned desk and nightstand, the dorm was quite tidy, with no dirty clothes piles or messy stacks of books like in her own room. The black and white portrait sets that he seemed to be partial to still hung on his walls, although she noticed that the subjects were not quite as morbid as they used to be.

Nathan’s knuckles were bloody and raw. “What did you do?” Max whispered, daring to place her fingers over his with a feather-light touch. His hands shook abnormally. Max spotted fist-sized indentations in the wall, and she suspected they were the cause for the shocking state of his hands.

He was muttering under his breath, sentence fragments directed at nobody in particular. “Shut up—just shut up—I wasn’t there, didn’t know—get out of it.”

“Nathan, please—”

“Get the fuck out!” he bellowed. He exploded out of her grasp, clutching desperately at either side of his head as his body wracked with spasms. Her heart leapt up into her throat. She had not seen him like this before.

When he crumpled to the floor once again, she caught a glimpse of the bright red discoloration around his left eye. There was no mistaking it for a bruise; it would probably be purple tomorrow. He had not done that to himself.

She couldn’t stifle the gasp that rose involuntarily out of her lungs. Her heart broke in that single moment. It broke for all the ways he’d hurt others, and for all the times he’d been the recipient of his father’s fists. She could not think of him as a heartless killer, however loyal she wanted to remain to Chloe. What could it have been like for a boy to shoulder the rejection and violence that haunted his every step? Nathan had never stood a chance. In the time Max had spent with him, she had glimpsed genuine regret and attempts to set things right, and she was not able to overlook that.

Reaching for him without a second thought, she wrapped her arms around his wiry frame, drawing him closer to her. A thought occurred to her.

“Did you take your meds?” His shaking appendages and random mutterings suggested the beginnings of some sort of withdrawal.

Wordlessly, he shook his head no, and Max let out a breath of air. “You’ve got to, Nathan. Those aren’t the sort of thing you can just stop and start on a whim.”

“How would you know what meds I’m on?” he asked frostily.

Max floundered for a few seconds, grasping desperately for an excuse. “I saw them on your coffee table,” she lied, having caught a glimpse of prescription bottles on the short table.

She was worried he might refuse to take them, but he swallowed them without apprehension. He shrugged her off again and Max took the message that he didn't want to interact with anybody.

Letting him alone, she instead began to straighten up the mess. He seemed to eventually wind down as he watched Max carefully work her way around the room, cleaning up the broken glass. After she emptied the dustpan of glass shards and put the nightstand and the desk back in their rightful places it looked more like the organized room he had kept at Blackwell. Max busied herself by studying the music collection on his iPod and perusing the movies and books on his shelves. They were all arranged alphabetically.

She knew she should probably leave, but she didn’t want to. When she snuck a glance over at Nathan she found he was staring at her. Max knew what he was thinking: _nosy_. Managing to crack a small smile, she settled on his couch and stuck one of his earbuds in her ear.

Neither of them had spoken in the last hour. When they did talk, Max managed to squeeze a little information out of him. Sean, hungover and still angry from last night, had determined that Nathan was hiding something from him after finding the disabled video cameras, so apparently he figured he would try and beat it out of him. Sean did not appear to realize that his safe had been broken into. Max felt extreme relief at their leaving no evidence behind.

Nathan had not fought back, and besides the shiner on his face, Max couldn’t see any other physical injuries on Nathan.

"You don't have to let him do that anymore, you know," she said softly.

Nathan just shrugged heavily.

"You're an adult!" Max said. "You can go to the police. You can press charges against him!"

Nathan raked his fingers through his hair, his jaw tightening. "My mother...she sort of needs him around. He has a lot of people depending on him, actually. He employs hundreds of people, you know."

"Your mother should have been protecting you all those years," she insisted. "And somebody else can run the company."

He looked as if he wanted to reach out and shake her. "You don't get it, okay? It's more complicated than that! He's not exactly a negotiator. The backlash would affect my entire family. I can't just think about myself. It's not worth it."

"It seems worth it to me," Max muttered. She motioned to his knuckles. "You should clean those up."

"Not interested."

"Just do it!"

When he stalked out of the room, she let out a deep breath and tried to still her shaking fingers. How often did this happen? With sudden alarm, she considered the possibility that he might hurt himself if left alone.

Without hesitation she called Victoria, the only person who would have insight into Nathan Prescott.

"Hello?"

"I'm worried about Nathan."

"What's going on?"

"His dad was just here at our school. He was harrassing Nathan, and he seems in pretty bad shape." Max didn't want to gossip by oversharing details, but Victoria was the only one familiar with his mannerisms.

"Whoa, whoa. Sean Prescott is in _Portland_ with you guys?"

"Not anymore, probably. He left. Nathan hadn't taken his meds until just now, and I wanted to know--"

"Is Nathan okay?" Victoria demanded.

"Yes, he seems okay now that he's calmed down, but--"

"Oh, my God, this is just like high school all over again," Victoria cut her off, sounding remorseful.

"This--this sort of thing has happened before, then."

"Nathan skipped his meds frequently in high school, he was seriously unstable. You have to understand that the way he acts now isn't the way he used to be." Well, Max certainly knew that already, but to Victoria, Max had never interacted with Nathan in high school at all. Victoria continued, "I mean, I barely recognized him after all this time! I can see now that the best thing Nathan ever did for himself was to move away from his father. So what the hell is Sean doing now?"

"He's pissed because he caught us sneaking in his house last night. He was essentially telling Nathan to back off."

"Are you serious?" Victoria shrieked. "Why were you sneaking around in his house? Does this have to do with your stupid missing kid theory again? Max, I swear to God if you're pushing Nathan into getting close with his dad again just so you can play private investigator, I am going to _physically harm you_."

Max bit back the flare of anger she felt at Victoria's condescending mention of 'stupid missing kid theory.' Maybe if Victoria knew that she herself had been a missing kid in a previous timeline, she might understand Max's desire to 'play private investigator.'

Despite these assertions, Max's anger was quickly replaced with an anchor of guilt.

"Look, it wasn't like that entirely, okay? Nathan said himself that he was looking into his dad. He wants to find out what's been going on, too." Max did not mention that she _had_ pushed him into sneaking into the house last night.

"I don't like this one bit. Nathan needs to stay away from his dad. I'm serious, this is important to his mental health." Victoria emphasized each word carefully, as if Max were hard of hearing. She let out a large sigh after a few seconds. "If he's calm now and he's taken his pills, he shouldn't be a risk anymore if that's what you're calling for." Her voice sounded resigned.

"Yes. I'm sorry to worry you. I had no idea if this kind of thing had happened before and you're the only person that I could think to call. You're the only one that really knows him."

Victoria sighed again, wistfully. "I don't know him as well as I used to, but I do know him pretty well, Max. Which is why I'm telling you to keep him the fuck out of whatever little scheme you're cooking up."

After she and Victoria had hung up and Nathan still wasn't back from the bathroom, Max took a trip to the cafeteria to locate a couple of sandwiches. It had stopped raining, and puddles lined the sidewalks. She relished the crisp air as it helped to clear her head. The sky was gray, and the sunset did not show through the clouds.


	10. Chapter 10

When Max returned to Nathan's dorm, sandwiches in hand, she began to worry that he might not even let her back in. She had only been thinking of the food when she'd left, and it hadn't occurred to her right away that he might seize the opportunity to lock her out.

But her paranoia had been ill-founded because he lazily called out at her to come in. His desk lamp was on and he was sitting in his chair, his hair damp from the shower. Max's heart pounded as she shut the door behind her with a certain amount of unease. He had been holding a cigarette out his window, but he stubbed it out in a glass ashtray once she'd stepped inside.

"You're still here, are you?" Nathan asked her with a raised eyebrow. He was certainly acting more like himself.

She held up a sandwich rather dumbly. "Food," she explained after a beat or two.

His mouth twitched. "Nice," he commented. She tossed him one and he motioned to the couch. Settling into the cushions, she started unwrapping her food.

“Hey! Are those my pictures?” Max exclaimed indignantly. Nathan had, apparently, taken it upon himself to go through her camera bag that she’d left in his room. She pounced at his coffee table where her photos were stacked in a neat pile and gathered them back into her bag.

“You’re not the only one who can snoop,” he replied dryly, joining her on the couch. His close proximity sent her heart fluttering about nonsensically. She could feel warmth emanating from him and was torn between scooting away out of sheer nervousness and scooting right into his lap. Honestly, what had gotten into her?

"There's a big difference between the photos you take now and the ones you took at Blackwell," he said suddenly. He handed her the portfolio she had put together after she graduated her senior year. He really had dug through every inch of her bag, the sneak. "I'm not sure what to make of it."

She wondered why he had to "make" anything of it. Her fingers brushed against his as she took the book back from him.

Not appearing to suffer the strange physical anomalies that Max did whenever they were too close, Nathan, exceptionally untroubled, unwrapped his own sandwich and nearly devoured it in four bites. He crumpled up the wrapping and shot it into the wastebasket.

"I think I've had enough bullshit for one day. I'd like to _relax_ for once," he said bitterly.

"Same."

He reached behind his couch and pulled out a bong. It was medium sized, and surprisingly clean. She could see the water sloshing around through the clear glass. Chloe's pieces had all been rimmed with yellow stains from neglect.  

Nathan packed the bowl quickly, aiming his lighter downward to pull the flame into the green bowl as he inhaled. The chamber turned milky white with smoke and he pulled the bowl up, clearing it all out.

When he offered it to Max, she was more than happy to indulge, but she was not quite sure she fully understood the mechanics of the glass piece. The first time she tried to tilt the lighter down to the bowl, the flame leaped up and singed her thumb. Hissing and dropping the lighter, she tried again.

Nathan eventually took pity on her and lit the bowl himself, instructing her when to inhale and when to stop and pulling the bowl out for her. As Max exhaled easily, she was interested to find that the water filtration made the hits much smoother. She instantly took to the bong, preferring it vastly to joints. Nathan only smirked when she told him so, and they passed it once more.

Soon she began to feel like she was being dipped slowly into warm water, feeling the tension unwind all the way down to her toes. She also became very aware of Nathan staring down at her. He took up an awful lot of space, his presence filling the room. He smelled like whatever soap he had just used in the shower, and was she just imagining that he had been imperceptibly leaning closer to her over the last few minutes?

For an instant, Max was certain that he was going to kiss her again. Why else would he be looking at her like that?

The words Nathan spoke next were akin to a bucket of ice water down her back.

“What other things did you see? When you changed timelines, I mean. What happened differently between us?”

Her mouth dropped open in a rather unattractive manner. Why couldn't he have just tried to stick his tongue in her mouth like a normal guy?

She wasn't sure what made her finally tell him. Perhaps it was the fact that Max knew so much more about Nathan than he knew about her. The scale was tipped heavily in her favor. Maybe she was tired of gripping it so tightly, this forbidden secret that followed her around like a stormcloud.

“I stopped you from killing her that day.” Max’s voice shook, and she tried to hide it. “I pulled the fire alarm. Chloe told me about her friend, Rachel Amber, and how she’d disappeared. We tried to track her down. We found clues through people she was close to. I rewound things incessantly to get it right, we had to sneak into Frank’s RV and everything…”

Nathan’s breath caught. “You know Frank Bowers?”

“Not now, technically. But yes, at one point.”

“I can’t fucking believe this." He raked his fingers through his damp hair, causing it to stick up wildly. How long did this take?”

“A week.”

There was a significant pause as he processed what she had just said. “You were there a whole week? How is that possible, how did you get back to the bathroom that day? You couldn't have rewound that far at once.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Nathan,” she admitted. She told him how she figured out how to use photographs to travel. She told him about all the times she had to save Chloe, the way she’d traveled back to her childhood and watched Chloe’s father take his keys and walk out the front door to his death, and how they had discovered Jefferson’s dark room and Rachel’s body before the police did.

She had never seen him look so completely disgusted with himself when she mentioned the photos of Rachel. Once she started it all came tumbling out like an overfilled pitcher, a rush of words that she could no longer control. It was happening so fast that she didn't even have time to berate herself for being so straightforward with him.

“You said before that I…died.” The unspoken question lingered in the air between them.

“J-Jefferson. He did it.”

Nathan’s face clouded over darkly, but he did not say anything.

“That tornado was real—it was like a byproduct of all the things I changed and all the times I fought to save Chloe. It was going to destroy the whole town. Chloe couldn’t stand the thought of all those innocent people getting hurt…I was just so tired of fighting. I let it happen, I let her give herself up. I d-didn’t even try harder.”

Her eyes had filled with tears at some point, and she couldn’t stifle the waver in her voice as she continued to spill more details than she'd ever thought was possible. For all the times that Nathan had been vulnerable and pulled away and rejected her comfort out of pride and self-preservation, he nonetheless leaned forward and took hold of her shoulders, easing her closer.

“Didn’t try harder? Max, you tried over and over and over again. This rewinding thing is fucked up. Nobody is meant to have this kind of control over fate. You did every damned thing you could, short of dying from some brain hemorrhage trying to patch up the timeline. Don’t you dare fucking sell yourself short.”

It hurt. Damn it, did it hurt to have her pain so raw and on display in front of him. The sting intermingled with the lightness she felt in her chest at having finally acknowledged the past, finally getting the words out in the open, and she was left with a bittersweet ache.

“And your nightmares?” he asked. She only gave him a quizzical glance. “You slept in my truck all night. I know about them.”

She was quiet for a long time.

“Jefferson. Let’s just say somewhere in that alternate timeline there was a red binder that had my name on it.”

This time Nathan was stunned into silence. He didn’t appear to want to look her in the eye.

When he finally did speak, his voice was dangerously low. "Are you telling me," he said shakily, "that I..."

She caught onto his meaning. "No! You didn't. It--it was all Jefferson. You weren't—he had already gotten you."

This did not appear to console him, however. Nathan buried his face in his hands, slumping forward in defeat. His fingers slid up into his hair again, clenching in frustration.

"I can't...you have to leave. I can't deal with this right now," he said in a cold voice.

"You did try to warn me from him," she uttered hastily, in a misguided attempt to placate him. "You left me a voicemail—"  

"Just get out. _Now_!"

His tone of voice was different than before. Authoritative. He really meant it this time. That impenetrable wall went up again, shutting her out completely.  

Hurt, she stood suddenly. "You were the one who wanted to know," she snapped at him. Her head felt foggy from the weed, and she wasn't able to stifle the angry tears that sprang into her eyes, stinging almost as much as his abrupt rejection. There was a reason that Max hadn't told anybody before. They would have thought she was a lunatic, for starters. Nathan was supposed to be the one who understood.

She picked up her camera bag, her movements stiff and jerky as she jammed her feet into her shoes. Nathan kept his gaze fixed in the opposite direction, refusing to pay her any attention. Dick.

Slamming his door childishly behind her, she headed back to the stairs. The same group of guys were still lingering in the hallway, and they jeered at her as she walked by, making various comments about 'gettin some' and 'walks of shame.' She ignored them and wrapped her arms around herself as she hurried out of the building.

Her shoes squished on the wet grass and she ducked her head down all the way back to her dorm, the moonlight illuminating her path.

Max's fingers shook as she turned the key in her lock. The tears that had been building threateningly finally spilled over the brim of her eyelids, and she let out a stifled sob and sank down onto her bed.

After confiding in Nathan what exactly would have transpired had he failed to kill Chloe, the last thing that Max had expected was to be thrown out of his room. _He_ was the one who asked her to share. She would have been all too happy to keep it to herself. He had practically recoiled away from her. Like her issues were so much worse than his. What right did he have to judge her? _Oh, I'm sorry. Did I make things uncomfortable? Try living it, asshole._ Her anger was ugly and consuming, and when it eventually ebbed and faded as she got hold of herself, all she was left with was a hollow space in her chest.

Why couldn't he have said anything other than 'leave'? He could have said how fucked up it was. Hell, he could have offered her another bong hit. But to ask her to expose her trauma and then throw her out on her ass? The worst part of it was that she'd actually _cried_ in front of him.

When a loud knock on her door sounded, she ignored it. She was sick of people.

The knocking continued, and she pulled her knees up to her chest.

Her phone began to ring, and without checking who was calling she merely flung it against the door, hearing the satisfying crack upon impact.

The knocking increased in volume and urgency, and when she continued to ignore it, the knocking built up into wall-rattling thumps. The window panes began to shake, and she finally heaved herself up from the bed before one of the other students called campus security.

Max whipped open the door, ready to give the ass-kicking of her life, but Nathan moved so quickly she barely had any response time. His arms were around her as he pushed his way into her dorm. For as long as Max had known him, he had always been a very physical person when it came to expressing his emotions. This apparently carried over into how he displayed his affection as well. His hands moved eagerly as if he was trying to hold every part of her at once. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, Max, I'm sorry," he whispered into her neck over and over as his lips moved against her skin.

Having his face buried in her throat the way it was caused a shivering sensation down Max's spine. It was like he knew exactly how to disarm her and quell her anger by instead appealing directly to her sadness and wounded pride. Max's arms moved as though they were being controlled by a different person and wound them around his neck in reciprocation. It felt so comforting to just lose herself and relax against him.

Just as suddenly as if she'd stuck her finger in an electrical outlet, Max remembered herself. She shoved him back with force and mustered her best pissed-off look. "You can't just come in here and push your way in like some sort of macho pig and hug me and expect everything to be okay!"

* * *

  
After Nathan had thrown Max out of his dorm, he got up from the couch and began to pace back and forth. It was difficult to process everything that she had just told him.

He had known she was hiding something, of course. That much had been perfectly clear. But what Max had told him shocked him to his very core.

Max Caulfield hadn't just read about Jefferson's and Nathan's involvement in the dark room in the newspapers like everyone else in Arcadia Bay. Oh, no. She _lived_ it. She had actually been there and seen all of the horrible things that Nathan had done with her own two eyes. The realization was like a fist in his solar plexus.

Nathan's teeth ground together painfully as he remembered the things that Jefferson had whispered at him, all of the lies that Nathan had swallowed up. When he had finally convinced Nathan to drug Kate, Nathan had stayed dangerously drunk for the entire duration. Even then, he'd known it was wrong, but some sick part inside of him listened to Jefferson's manipulations.

Before Jefferson was arrested, he had turned his attentions onto Victoria. Nathan hadn't known how he was going to extricate himself from the task of dropping his closest friend at the feet of a madman. One of the few consolations for Nathan after the trial was that Jefferson wouldn't be able to hurt anyone anymore.

But he had. And it was Max.

The thought of Jefferson's hands on Max caused sour bile to gurgle up in the back of his throat. He doubled over at the waist and retched into the wastebasket as images of Jefferson posing her like the others, binding her wrists, and sliding a needle into her neck flashed before his eyes. He had filled a whole binder with Max's delirious gaze.

Oh, sure, Max had tried to convince him that it was all Jefferson's fault, but really that wasn't true. Nathan should have been stronger, he should have resisted the psychotic ramblings and gone to the cops weeks before. But, no.

He'd been scared. Not only that, but he'd even _helped_ the bastard continue to get photos. As far as Nathan was concerned, he may as well have bound and delivered her himself. He hated that part of himself, that weak part that Jefferson had exploited so easily.

His therapy sessions taught him that being a victim was not his fault, and that it didn't make him weak, but Sean had always been screaming at him that he was weak, that he was a snarky little piss-ant who could never fend for himself.

Why the _fuck_ had Max been so kind him this whole time? She continuously returned his texts, had driven around with him on numerous occasions, and had not resisted when he boldly laid a kiss on her smart mouth.

He felt like the worst kind of trash, his self-loathing reaching critical level.

When Max had said she'd investigated people close to Rachel, he'd read between the lines enough to know that meant she had checked up on _him_. And if she had gotten close to Frank Bowers then he was willing to bet she knew more about Nathan's drug history than he'd thought.

He had already figured out in the short time they'd spent together that when Max got it in her head to find something out, she was going to find it alright. Her perseverance coupled with her ability to rewind time had probably led her to loads of information. Hadn't she figured out details about Nathan's personal life? Max was no good at discerning through the separate timelines and had slipped on multiple occasions, alerting him to the fact that she knew things like his sister's name, the prescriptions he was taking, and the type of music that calmed him down.

 _You idiot, why do you think she confided in you?_ he thought suddenly. In a way, it was like Max was trying to make up for the invasion of privacy. She had revealed everything about herself that she had, he was certain, never shared with another person besides Chloe. And thanks to him, she was out wandering around campus by herself.

Here he was throwing a massive pity party, when really he needed to be begging forgiveness. Somehow, Max had been willing to stay with him, and it was only when he'd shoved her at arm's length did she finally retreat. He had to be there for her. This whole business with the missing kids was dangerous, and he couldn't let her go without help.

As much as it pained him to know that Max had seen the ugliest, darkest things about him, whatever hurt he felt was probably only half of what Max was going through. Once again, he had acted too hastily for the sake of pride. Well, that was all out the window now, anyway.

Once he had hiked all the way across campus and reached her door, he began to knock heartily upon it. He was fully aware that he deserved her cold shoulder. But she had to listen, he would _make_ her see.

She finally opened her door and, not believing his good fortune, couldn't help rushing at her instantly, not giving her a chance to say anything. He apologized profusely and repetitively. Without intending to he had gathered her in his arms, trying to show her comfort the only way he seemed capable at the moment. All he could think about was Jefferson photographing her, and it only made him squeeze harder.

Her fists were on his chest soon after, and she shoved him away. She was trying her hardest to look tough and mean, but Nathan could see the hurt in her eyes as plain as the freckles sprinkled across her nose.

"You can't just come in here and push your way in like some sort of macho pig and hug me and expect everything to be okay!"

"I know," he said vehemently. He held up his palms in supplication. "I'm sorry, I was only thinking of myself. I couldn't leave it like that, though, okay? I shouldn't have taken my guilt out on you. It was a shitty thing to do."

Nathan was not accustomed to speaking so frankly, but he couldn't bear the thought of Max being angry with him.

She must have seen sincerity in his face, because the glint in her eye softened, and his heart sped up at the hope that she might actually keep him around.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter, pls forgive. It was super hard to write.
> 
> In case you're wondering, I'm estimating about sixteen to eighteen chapters total, but that's not finalized yet. It could be longer, depending on my writer's block.  
> Also, this is probably it for the heavy smoking scenes. I don't really peg Max as an everyday stoner or anything, but I did feel it was relevant to her characterization that she experiment as this is a time of transition for her.
> 
> Thank you so much for the encouragement thus far. I was having a difficult time continuing on with this, but you guys really helped me shoulder through it. xo


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I was able to get this chapter edited quickly this time. I take FOREVER to edit my chapters because I go over it a disgusting amount of times over the course of several days.
> 
> If you're like me and enjoy listening to corresponding playlists while you're reading, these are the songs I was listening to when I wrote this:  
> Into Dust by Mazzy Star (super relevant)  
> Obstacle 1 by Interpol  
> Crystalised by The xx

* * *

 

The cemetery was just as Max remembered it, with towering pines and the tranquil sounds of birds overhead. Chloe's stone was simple and had her name and dates engraved into it. She found a dry patch in the grass and sat down, leaning against a tree not far from the headstone.

She almost wished she had a joint or something to light up in Chloe's honor, like one would raise a toast to a fallen comrade. Instead, she leaned her head against the tree and closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of wildlife in the woods.

It was the weekend after the rainstorm, and it had warmed up significantly, the first time all spring. According to the Arcadia Bay news, the town was putting together a search party for Brian Mathers down by the beach near where Tracy was found. Max thought that perhaps Tracy had been able to give the police some useful leads on where to look for him. The woods in Arcadia Bay were thick, and there were a lot of places to conceal someone.

She found herself growing impatient for Warren to text her back with some news regarding the IP addresses. Even though it was probably a long shot, it was the only lead she had. She received a text earlier that morning from him stating that he needed a little more time.  

A mellow breeze drifted through the branches above her head, and Max stretched out languorously in the grass, folding her hands underneath her head. She was finally able to relax a little, more than she had in a long time. None of her nightmares had come back, and Max was thankful for the extra sleep she was awarded.

Max did not plan to spend a long time in Arcadia Bay on this particular trip. She had come for the sole purpose of visiting Chloe. She grabbed some lunch to go from the Two Whales and settled into her car to head back to campus. Trying her hardest to ignore her odometer, (she had put an exorbitant amount of miles on her car driving back and forth so often) Max pulled out onto the highway.

Her phone began to vibrate from the center console. Aware that it was irresponsible to answer, she did so anyway.

"Hello?"

"Caulfield."

It was Nathan. He usually preferred to text her; a phone call was odd.

"What's up?"

"Where are you?"

"Heading back to campus. Just leaving Arcadia Bay."

"Pull over."

"What? What's going on?"

"Just pull over."

Doing as she was told, she pulled the car into a gas station on the access road. "What is it? Is everything okay?"

"It's Brian. They found him."

Her fingers gripped the phone intently. "They found him?" she repeated excitedly. "Has he said anything? Have they released any information?"

"Listen," he cut her off urgently. "They—they _think_ it's him. They found...they found a body, Max."

* * *

  
Her head was spinning. Logically, it was in no way Max's fault what had happened to Brian, but guilt settled thickly upon her chest anyway. The local news stations had not officially announced the victim's name, as the authorities were still taking steps to identify him. An autopsy would be performed immediately after. With Arcadia Bay being such a small town, this spread like wildfire.

Everybody knew it was Brian Mathers. It had already been decided amongst the gossip mill. The body had been found in the woods, near the hiking trail up to the lighthouse. A park ranger had stumbled upon it during his morning rounds. Apparently he'd taken his dog out with him that morning and went over to investigate when the dog had fixated on something partially unearthed in the wet ground near a large pine tree.

Max was shell-shocked, and entirely unsure how to react. Nathan had, strangely enough, predicted what her exact level of distress would be upon hearing the news and was clearly trying his best to make her feel better, behaving most attentively.

Nathan ended up calling Victoria, and the three of them were in Victoria's dorm room at the Arcadia Bay community college. She couldn't help feeling touched at the effort to lift her spirits a little, or at the very least distract her in the meantime.

Max left to use the communal restroom, and when she returned she paused in the hall outside of Victoria's semi-open door as she heard their voices drifting out, talking about her.

"I don't get it," Victoria said in a hushed tone. "She is acting so weird about these kids. She doesn't even know them. I mean, I'd like to be there for her, but—"

"Then just be there for her," Nathan interrupted. "She's projecting the same feeling of helplessness she experienced in high school with Rachel Amber...and Chloe. The fact that it's our old school specifically doesn't help, either."

Max sucked in a breath at hearing them talk so bluntly about her. Since when did Nathan talk like a Dr. Phil special? She supposed he picked up a few terms from all his mandated therapy, but to hear him speak of her like she was just so easy to figure out, a systematic equation that could be explained line by line, didn't seem fair. No, it wasn't fair that someone seemed to have a better grasp on her subconscious than she did. It wasn't fair because she couldn't seem to sort out her own emotions, let alone somebody else's.

Max made her entrance loud and noticeable, giving Victoria and Nathan enough time to stifle the conversation. Neither of them had the conscience to even look guilty, Max noted.

Victoria clapped her hands together like a cheerleader and fixed her bright gaze on Max. "The question is, what cool and awesome thing can we do tonight?"

"Cool and awesome?" Nathan echoed with a raised eyebrow.

"Anything's gotta be better than sulking in my shitty dorm." Now she crawled across her bed and shook a cigarette out of her pack, sliding the window open. She tilted the pack towards Nathan. "You want?"

He shook his head no and continued to scroll through something on his phone,

"If you're trying to think of something fun on my account, don't. Because—"

"Swimming!" Victoria exclaimed, ignoring Max.

"There's nowhere to swim," Max said automatically.

Victoria's pretty face sank into a pout. "I miss the days when we could still swim in your pool," she said to Nathan. "Oh, my God, he's got the most luxurious pool you've ever seen. His mother spent thousands of dollars getting these mosaic tiles inlaid at the bottom of the pool."

"Even if that were an option, it's still too cold to get in the water anyway," Max said.

"Nathan's pool is _heated_ ," she said wistfully, looking up at the ceiling with a dreamy expression.

"Hmm. I guess that does sound pretty cool," Max agreed despite herself.

"My dad's on a business trip right now," Nathan said quietly, surprising them.

"Really? I mean, not that I'm pushing to hang out at your parent's house or anything," Victoria said quickly. Max cracked a small smile.

"Yeah. He's gone till Tuesday. I guess...maybe just a quick swim wouldn't hurt."

"Yesss! Really quick, we'll be in and out of there," Victoria promised. Her enthusiasm was infectious.

* * *

  
The wrought iron gate did not squeak as the three of them snuck through it. The sun had already dipped below the horizon, and all of the garden lights had flickered on, highlighting the creeping ivy on the walls, the stepping stone path, and the decorative boulders further back. Nathan left the pool lights off, keeping the water shrouded in darkness, save for the reflection from the landscape lighting behind them.

Victoria wasted no time in stripping off her outer layer, right down to her bikini. Max had borrowed something, once again, from the back of Victoria's closet. The most unobtrusive-looking clothes were always in the back. For as good as Victoria looked in her white patterned bikini with complicated strings and gold clasps adorning the front, it just wasn't something Max could see herself wearing.

The sun had taken the last of the day's warmth along with it behind the mountains, so they were eager to submerge themselves into the warm water of his parent's expensive pool.

It was beautiful, as Victoria had said. A wall of natural rocks meticulously installed formed a waterfall that trickled gently into the pool, just next to the sunken spa. The inlaid tiles depicted a family of turtles in varying shades of teal and turquoise.

Max floated around peacefully in the warm water, speculating how much time she would have spent in a pool like this if she'd had one growing up. It felt nice in contrast to the chilly air. Steam rose up gently from the water.

Careful not to make too much noise so as to avoid Nathan's mother coming to the window (in the event that she was home), they continued to splash around as unobtrusively as possible. Max found herself very distracted at Nathan being naked to the waist. His chest was bare, save for a golden dusting of hair over the lower region of his abdominal muscles, settling right in the center of the V-shape that disappeared into the top of his shorts. Out of all of the times she had ever gone swimming with Warren Graham, she certainly had never felt any inclination to fixate on the V-shape near _his_ abdominals. No way, she hadn't been interested in Warren's abdominals in the least bit.

Tearing her eyes away from Nathan's narrow hips and his low-slung swimming shorts, she dove underwater and relished the feel of the water on her burning cheeks.

When Victoria asked which bathroom she should use Nathan gestured to the pool house, standing a ways from the main house. She climbed up the pool steps and wrapped her arms around herself to uselessly fight off the cold air as she ran for the door.

"Did you and Victoria do this often? Swim, I mean," Max cleared her throat.

"Yeah. Us and the rest of the Vortex Club too, I guess." He gave a humorless laugh. "That seems so long ago, now. It was pretty lame, too."

"I think it's the cheesy name."

"Yeah. We should have gone with some sort of Brigade and that would have cemented in our credibility, right?"

"Somehow I suspect you would have needed a lot more than just a new name to achieve some semblance of class."

"Fucking ouch, Caulfield. Remind me to pack body armor next time."

Caught off guard by his casual teasing, (or was it flirting?) she looked away quickly before her eyes settled somewhere embarrassing, like his wet, clinging shorts or the little indentations on his lower back that she could spot when he turned around. Her cheeks felt hot again, and rather than continue to ogle him like a construction worker, she pretended to be very interested in a loose rock in the pebble tec that lined the pool.

Nathan was exceptionally agile, and she didn't even notice that he'd crossed the water over to her side until he caught her fingers up in his, pulling her away from the wall she was picking at. Any hope of her cheeks cooling off in the near future suddenly looked grim.

He had that amused glint in his eye, like he knew just the sort of licentious thoughts drifting through her head. When he moved closer to her and leaned in, Max felt her breath hitch. He lifted her hand carefully up to his face and slowly pressed his lips right on the underside of her wrist, where her pulse beat unsteadily beneath her skin.

It was such a sweet, simple gesture that she was caught off-guard, yet again. She never knew what to expect from him, and this straightforward display of affection made her feel a rush of excitement, a thrill at the thought of them wanting a place in each other's lives.

"I'm sorry you're upset about Brian. I wish I could help."

"The swimming thing does help, in a way. You know?"

He nodded solemnly, and opened his mouth to say something else, but whatever it was got cut off by a loud, staccato chirp of a police car. The wailing sirens grew louder in volume, and Max and Nathan both turned their attention to the front driveway, a slice of which they could see through the wrought iron gate. There was the crunch of tires rolling over gravel and a flash of headlights; Sean's big white Mercedes had just pulled into the circular driveway at the front of the house. Police lights suddenly flooded the front walk, drowning the foliage in a harsh sea of red and blue.

Three squad cars lurched to a halt behind him, effectively blocking off the exits of the driveway.

"Hey, guys, I got towels!" Victoria called to them as she emerged from the poolhouse.

"Shhhh!" Nathan hissed at her. He was out of the pool in an instant, giving Max a hand up.

"What's going on?" Victoria asked, her eyes wide with alarm.

He held a finger to his lips and motioned away from the pool and up against the wall. Max wrapped a towel tightly around herself, shivering, as they crept up to the gate, peering through it.

Cops had leapt from their vehicles immediately, urging Sean to put his hands in the air. The driver door of the Mercedes swung open as if kicked in anger, and Sean emerged.

The enormous front door to the house opened, and a thin, blonde woman in a Dior dressing robe came running out with a horrified expression on her face as four officers had practically wrestled Sean into a pair of handcuffs.

"Sean!" she bawled desperately. He didn't answer her in the commotion, and the cops began to read him his rights. "What is he being arrested for?" she demanded shrilly from her front steps.

Sean was struggling, yelling indignantly as they led him stumbling to the nearest squad car.

"You're under arrest for the murder of Brian Mathers. We've got some questions for you," one of the burly cops boomed.

"I didn't do it!" Sean roared at anybody in his general vicinity. "I told you people before, I'm being framed! _Framed,_ d'you hear me, you sons of bitches? Framed!"

Sean's previously pressed suit was disheveled from his resistance, his glasses skewed on his nose. Drops of spittle flew from his mouth throughout the course of his infuriated tirade.

It was such an ugly scene before them, Max was barely aware that she'd wrapped her fingers around Nathan's hand.

By now, they had stuffed Sean into the backseat, having finished reciting his rights.

"Oh, my God," Victoria breathed. "We have to get out of here."

"Should you go to your mom?" Max asked worriedly, glancing at the poor woman in hysterics. Nathan looked rather dazed.

"Let's just get the fuck out of here."

* * *

  
The three of them were back at Victoria's dorm again. Her roommate had been staying at her boyfriend's a lot, so they had the place to themselves. Max had changed out of her swimsuit and they sat in silence, all staring anywhere but each other. Nathan was as pale as a sheet.  
Eventually, Victoria produced a joint from the depths of her clutch purse and lit it with shaky fingers, not even bothering to open the window. Max hit it twice around, and let Victoria and Nathan finish it off. By the time Nathan reached over and stubbed the smoldering roach into a pink ashtray, the room was thick with smoke.

Max began to feel that slow relaxation again, her previous troubles sort of held at a distance, an arm's length, and she was able to settle easier.

They must have felt the same way, because Victoria finally broke the silence.

"Did you know anything about this?" Victoria asked carefully.

"No. He didn't do it," Nathan said roughly.

Victoria blinked rapidly, taken aback. "But...those cops said—"

"I know what they said."

The girls exchanged a worried glance. "How do you know he didn't do it?" Max asked him.

"How do you know he _did_? The cops may think they have some 'evidence,' but he didn't do it. He's an asshole, but he wouldn't do that." He was angry. Max wanted to point out that _he_ was the one who was projecting now, but she bit the inside of her cheek.

"Tracy Hernandez said that whoever took her was way too small to be Sean," Nathan continued. This was flimsy proof at best.

"You know he could have hired help," Victoria said softly, toeing the line further. Victoria's loyalty to the Prescott family ran deep, and it was only until now that she had even been willing to consider that Sean might have something to do with all of this.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," he snapped, getting up and leaving without so much as a goodbye.

Max wasn't sure what she thought anymore. Sean didn't kidnap Tracy himself, and as far as she knew, Brian Mathers didn't even know Sean Prescott. What motive could he possibly have to kill him? Maybe Nathan was on to something or maybe he wasn't, but Max could at least admit it was fishy.

Max said goodnight to Victoria and ran out of the dorm building into the night air. When she came out to the parking lot she saw that Nathan had not left yet, and was idling his truck a couple spaces down from her car, as if he'd known she would come running after him.

She pulled open his door and climbed in. He had since cleaned out the garbage from his truck, and it was as immaculate as his bedroom.

Nathan was fidgeting with his hourglass in one hand and dangling a lit cigarette from the other. His hair was sticking up wildly like he'd been raking his fingers through it. As she shut the door behind her, he flattened the end of his cigarette into the ashtray with irritated movements, the clock on his dashboard casting them in a green light. He stared down at the hourglass, the granules tipping back and forth as he rotated it.

"I'm really sorry this is happening," she said.

He scoffed bitterly. "Yeah, right. You've been after Sean since day one."

"Look, I don't know what I think, okay? This whole thing doesn't make any fucking sense."

"I know you at least think we all got what we deserved."

"Stop it," she pleaded. "Regardless of whether he's innocent or guilty, it doesn't make me happy that your mother just had to watch her husband get arrested right in front of their house, and it doesn't make me happy how this is going to affect your family."

Nathan hadn't been entirely wrong; Max held a strong bias against Sean. He was a spoiled, manipulative, abusive bully who had brought only misery to his son. Had she jumped to conclusions when she'd first heard about the missing kids? Maybe.

But the cops had just _arrested_ him. They couldn't do that without hard evidence. Maybe this really was the end of it. She supposed all they could do was wait for the trial or whatever was coming to determine the verdict.

Nathan's phone was resting in the cupholder in the center console between them, and it lit up suddenly for an incoming call, which he let go straight to voicemail. Afterwards his screen showed fourteen missed calls.

"Whoa. Someone wants to get ahold of you."

"My mom."

"Should you..."

"Yes. I will. I just...need a minute." He glanced at his glove compartment once or twice, and Max hoped he didn't have any more pills in there. "She's not exactly a joy to be around."

"I'm sure she's freaking out right now. I would be."

"Yeah, she is."

When his phone silently lit up again Max tried not to snoop, but couldn't will herself to look away as the screen read _Kristine_. This time he snatched the phone from it's resting place and stuffed it unceremoniously into his center compartment with a slam. There was a pinched expression on his face, and Max knew better than to ask about his sister. She knew he cared more for his sister than either of his parents, and there must have been a monumental conflict in Nathan's head for him to ignore her call.

His leg began jiggling back and forth in irritation. Max bit her lip as he reached slowly over to the glove compartment. His hand was closed tightly around something in an attempt to conceal it. It had to be one of those baggies.

"What is that?" Max asked in what she hoped was an even tone.

"I don't need a hard time on this right now, Caulfield," he said sternly, leaning his head back against his seat.

"I knew it. More drugs." Max shook her head. "Weren't you just telling me how bad it was to take pills whenever you were upset about something?"

"You don't know what the fuck it's like in my family," he spat in defense.

Victoria was so right. Something about being near his dad threw him right off track, flying out of control and into a place where no one could reach him.

"Nathan, you're on _parole_. Last I checked, that was pretty serious. I mean, you must be paying someone a fortune to keep you supplied with clean pee." His hand curled into a fist and she ignored it. "I know it's easy to shut down and act reckless, but you need to think about everything you're gonna lose if you get in trouble again."

He didn't answer her, and she took that to mean the conversation was over. He also didn't take the pills, so something she said must've resonated. Nathan would have to go to his mother, and Max had to drive home to campus. She had her hand on the door to let herself out and he reached out suddenly.

"Wait." His fingers were encircling her arm, warm and anchoring. "For all my mom knows, I'm home in Portland. Even if I call her now, she's still expecting me to take two hours to get here. Can we just...sit?"

"Sure."

Her phone vibrated in her pocket not long after, and she pulled it out to see it was Warren finally getting back to her.

"Who's the greatest in all the land?"

"Warren! Did you find out anything good?"

"Well, you're lucky that I happen to be acquainted with some brilliant minds in the tech department. We came up fruitless for most of it, but _then_ we were able to stumble across a sweet little gem," he said with rising suspense. Here, he dropped his voice an octave. "Now the reason I'm calling instead of emailing you is so that I can be certain you hear me when I say to be extremely careful with this, Max. I know you're not able to tell me details, but these people you're messing with are actual big fish. You have to tread lightly."

"Okay, okay, I hear you. Spill, already," she said impatiently.

"Alright, so my friend was able to track down this private server that had all your mysterious IP addresses associated with it. They were the only ones allowed on it. Now, the server ended up wiping itself or kicking us out or something seconds after he hacked into it, but we caught a glimpse of a private message between the two of them. It was obvious that one was blackmailing the other, and he was threatening some serious repercussions," Warren had begun talking very quickly as he always did when he was overexcited about something.

"Blackmail?" Max frowned. That didn't sound good. Now who did they know that was most likely to blackmail somebody to get what he wanted?

"Was that all you found? No names or identifying information?"

"These are some slippery characters, let me tell you. But I will disclose this next bit under the one condition that you--"

"Yes, yes, _be careful._ Got it, dude."

He cleared his throat. "Okay, he managed to track down an actual location. One street address, mind you."

"What is it?"

"Isn't this a weird coincidence? The address is in Arcadia Bay."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, everyone. I've been in such a good mood! the autumn weather has finally reached us here, and I've been writing like mad. the final number of chapters is 16, and I will definitely have the completed work up before the year ends.  
> here's a playlist if you'd like a listen :)  
> Moon - Little People (it's instrumental)  
> Gold Lions - Yeah Yeah Yeahs  
> All I Want - Dawn Golden (my fav! <3)

* * *

  
"No _fucking_ way," Nathan exclaimed with steely resolve. His eyes looked about as stormy as his mood.

"Come on," Max said, rolling her eyes. "Are you scared or something?"

"It's not about being scared, it's about being smart," he insisted. He crossed his arms over his chest, unwilling to budge. "When people start dying, that's usually about the time you want to contact the cops when you have a lead on a suspect."

She blinked at him. "Well done! That was exactly the sort of thing a well-balanced member of society would say! Your therapist would be proud."

Nathan sputtered out an incoherent protest. He was definitely losing his temper.

Max was dead set on visiting that address, curiosity singeing a hole right through her. Nathan had been outwardly against the idea ever since she'd gotten off the phone with Warren. His efforts were wasted, and there was no way she was going back to Portland now—although the look on Nathan's face suggested he might throw the truck in gear and drive her there himself.

Her main argument consisted of 'we can't call the police until the morning anyway, so she may as well have a look around herself while it's nighttime and quiet.' When that didn't work she'd had to resort to different tactics.

"Warren went through all this trouble to research that list for us."

"Well, you can tell your little friend _Warren_ thanks for playing Nancy Drew detective, but we're gonna let the cops take care of it from now on."

"You'd have to tell them exactly how we got this incriminating information. We'll both get in trouble for breaking into Sean's safe. He could press charges or something against us. Warren and his friends could even get busted for hacking. And besides, I can do things the cops can't do," she reminded him. She had only taken those pills once. Surely her rewind powers hadn't been stifled after one night.

His eyes darkened. "You can't count on rewinding to keep you safe," he said hotly.

"No, but it puts me at a significant advantage."

"You are high if you think I'm letting you gallivant off in the murdery woods to get cut into little pieces!" he said with a snarl.

"Let me?" Max repeated, scoffing. "How archaic of you." To Nathan's great alarm, Max had even pulled up the address on her phone, tapping on street view to get a good look at the place through satellite.

"See? Look at that! It's a cabin. Murdery cabin in the murdery forest!"

Max couldn't help but crack a smile at his lunacy and his penchant to make up words. "If I get into trouble, I'll just rewind."

"What's with the nonchalant attitude about rewinding all of a sudden?" he demanded. "Not too long ago I seem to remember your rewinding getting you into an undesirable situation, to put it lightly."

She fidgeted uncomfortably. Honestly, she had been bluffing mostly. She didn't think it would actually come down to her having to _use_ her powers, per se.

Nathan was so exasperated he looked as if he could spontaneously combust at any second. "You cannot think," he said carefully, exerting every ounce of self-control not to shout at her, "that it is in any way bright to try to catch a murderer by yourself. Just call the cops!"

"I don't want to catch the murderer. I'm just looking for more evidence. Something else is going on, I can feel it. There could be something in this house that sheds some new light. The Arcadia Bay PD is understaffed and underqualified," she said easily.

"And you're going to contribute with what? All your formal training?"

"In the other timeline, it was me and Chloe putting all the pieces together. We found Rachel Amber, not them."

"This isn't the other timeline!"

"Even if we did come clean to the cops about stealing private information, why would they follow up on it? As far as they're concerned, they already have their guy. If you're so sure your dad didn't kill Brian, don't you want hard proof of that? There's probably something there that will lead us to the truth. I'm going."

"Fine!" he ground out from between his clenched teeth. "If you're not going to be talked out of this _idiotic_ plan..."

He continued to mutter about "Warren 'Wizard-Hard-On' Graham" and how he ought to drive over to Brown and kick the crap out of him and his Magic-the-Gathering-loving friends into an alternate timeline.

When he suddenly turned on the truck and started driving, Max whirled on him, indignant.

"Where are you going?" she demanded, thinking he was forcibly diverting her.

For an alarming second he released the wheel to throw both hands in the air in frustration, every bit of his patience spent. "This is the way to the murdery cabin!"

Her eyes widened. "But--"

"Well, I'm _obviously_ going with you," he stated as though she were very dense.

* * *

  
 They thought it safer to approach the lot on foot so they could ascertain whether or not anyone was home before making any rash actions. At least, that's what Nathan said in justification.

Max was not very interested in waiting for his permission, something Nathan was quickly catching onto.

They had driven to the outskirts of Arcadia Bay, the houses few and far between as they ventured deeper into the wilderness. The cabin was nestled in the center of a thick clearing, but it had not fallen into any state of disrepair. The property looked well maintained. There was a _For Sale_ sign sticking out of the ground in front.

This struck Max as somewhat funny; anybody out this far was either lost or already knew exactly where they were going. It didn't seem like many prospective buyers would be wandering out here.

There were no cars in sight. Not a light shone.

"Looks quiet enough to me," Max decided. She ignored the impatient noises Nathan was making behind her. He made no effort to conceal his distress.

She pressed her nose to the front window, peering in through the dusty glass. "It's empty," she said softly. The walls were lined with faded wallpaper, and the hardwood floors looked just as dusty as the windows. There was no furniture, and no trash either. Nathan came up beside her and looked in the window as well.

"This place is so secluded I'm surprised high-schoolers don't break in and use it to party," Nathan commented.

"It doesn't look like anyone's been in here for a while," she said.

"Well, it's empty. Let's cut our losses and head home."

"Yeah, right. I'm going in."

The front door wouldn't budge a centimeter. They ventured around back, past the overgrown garden beds tucked snugly against the side of the cabin. Fortunately, they discovered a missing pane from the window on the back door. Nathan slipped his hand in neatly and unlocked the door from the inside. He hissed in pain as he nicked his hand on a sliver of glass hiding in the wooden frame.

"Oh, no. Let me look at that." Max pulled out her phone to turn on the flashlight.

"It's nothing. Let's just hurry." He jerked his hand away from her sharply, positioning her behind him as he crept in the cabin first, his senses as alert as a scared rabbit's.

It was small inside, the kitchen a mere slab of counter next to a wood-burning stove and an ancient-looking icebox. There was no official dining space and the kitchen ran right into the living area. A dull blue light blinked steadily down the hallway and Max immediately followed it, slipping from his fingers before he could hold her back.

A desk sat in the corner of an empty bedroom. The blue light was coming from a computer on sleep mode. So far the desk was the only furniture in the house, the only proof that somebody had been there. No other personal touches rested on the desk.

Max began to search eagerly. Nathan ducked out of the room, presumably to check the rest of the cabin for anything suspicious.

This room felt warmer than the living room, and sure enough, when Max put her hand next to the hard drive, it was hot, like it had just been in use. She wiggled the mouse and the screen lit up, blinding her in the darkness. It had a password protecting it, of course, and she saw no username anywhere. The computer being a dead end, she continued to look around.

When Max found the photos in the desk drawer her breath caught in her throat.

"Nathan," she breathed.

She had said it so quietly but he appeared at the doorway in a fraction of a second, his expression serious. "What is it?"

She didn't answer, just kept flipping through the photos, illuminated by the glow of the computer screen. There was Tracy Hernandez. She was bound in the high-res photos, and her eyes looked groggy and terrified. There were little notes clipped to each of the copies that read 'Sold:' with a series of numbers that Max did not understand. Underneath there were photographs of Brian as well, with much fewer Sold notes on them.

Nathan looked carefully over her shoulder at the disgusting photos. They didn't look like Jefferson's handiwork, but as Jefferson was locked behind bars there was no way he could have taken these anyway. Someone was clearly trying to copy him. He eased the stack out of Max's hands and flipped through them himself.

"Son of a bitch," he cursed suddenly.

She leaned over and was horrified to find a picture of herself. It was not like the clearly staged and posed photos of Brian and Tracy, this was a candid picture, and it had been taken when Max was coming out of class. The shot was fuzzy, but Max was clearly front and center. In the picture she wore a blue sweater and was tucking a lock of hair behind her ears. It was recent.

"Th-these are all _me_ ," she whispered in horror.

Nathan began to flip frantically through the rest of the photos. Max coming out of the rec center. Max heading into her dorm room. Max's car parked outside the Two Whales diner. Max sitting on the bench by the lighthouse in front of the golden sunset. Photo after photo of her, in both Portland and Arcadia Bay. Someone had been following her.

Her stomach immediately twisted in on itself, and she felt panicked and sick.

A loud thump sounded near the front of the house, followed by the rattle of a doorknob.

"Caulfield, let's go. Now."

Her knees had locked up and she felt frozen in place. Nevertheless she managed to sprint to the back door with Nathan, who seized her hand and propelled them forward into the woods, not bothering to shut the door behind him.

Max's breaths grew unsteady, and she couldn't get the images out of her head. They had been so close all along, documenting her moves, always a step away. This was deja vu of the sickest variety. There was no way this was happening to her _again._ Whoever hurt Tracy and Brian was dangerous, and according to those photos they had ample opportunity to hurt her as well. Were they just playing with her?

They doubled back around, avoiding the house with a wide berth. Max's hand was still enclosed tightly within his, and he scanned the trees left and right as they navigated closer and closer to the safety of his truck.

Max had never been so happy to see that stupid red truck in her life. She didn't think they were being followed, but now she could never really be sure. Nathan gave her a boost into the passenger seat, locked the door and walked around to the driver side before unlocking it again and climbing in.

He started the engine and kept his headlights off until he navigated back to the road. Max couldn't stop shaking and she pulled her knees up to her chest.

"We're not being followed. I checked," Nathan said. Now he pulled into a gas station under the bright fluorescent lights. He turned in his seat. "Don't worry about this, okay? We're going to the police first thing." Max was a nervous wreck, unable to look him in the eye. "Seriously, it's going to be fine. Say something."

"I can't—I can't go back," she said through lips that felt like ice. "I can't go back in the dark room." Saying the words broke her composure, and her eyes instantly flooded with tears. "I don't want to go back, I don't want to go back."

"Listen! That will _never_ fucking happen. I don't know who's following you, but one thing I do know is that no one is taking you to a dark room. I promise," he insisted vehemently. "Fuck that."

Despite his well-intentioned words, she found it difficult to suck in air, and her chest felt heavy. Nathan flipped his center console up to make a third seat, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, her head buried in his shoulder.

"I just want to go home," she whispered.

* * *

  
He drove them back to Portland in the middle of the night, Max's head resting in his lap as she slept, fingers curled around the hourglass. The window was open a crack and cool air poured in. It felt good on his bruised eye, still tender from Sean's fist.

Nathan chain-smoked five cigarettes during his drive and stopped once to get a new pack. Never had he felt so fucking agitated in his entire life. He had known it was a bad idea to check out the cabin, but he had no idea the true ramifications of going in there.

He supposed it was a good thing they knew someone was after her, but the stress it had put on Max was profound. The situation was growing worse, and Nathan could not for the life of him figure out what the hell Max had to do with all of this and how it all tied together.

Max had appealed to him with the endeavor to clear his father's name, but what they had stumbled upon was a different beast entirely, and Max had a giant target on her forehead.

He kept one hand on her back, caressing her slightly as she mumbled restlessly in sleep. He could feel her bones through her thin hoodie and she seemed so completely helpless in that moment, exhausted from being tangled up in this nightmare.

He lit another cigarette.

 

* * *

  
When Max felt Nathan's fingers brushing away the hair on her face, she woke suddenly, startled. She sat up in Nathan's truck, disoriented, only to find that they were parked in front of her dorm. His jacket was around her shoulders, and she wrapped it tighter around herself.

Wordlessly, she climbed out of the truck, and he did the same.

She didn't ask him to stay, and he didn't ask permission. It was unspoken, yet they walked together hand in hand to her building, and he followed her right into her dorm.

She deadbolted the door and wedged her chair in underneath the doorknob, barricading it. She looked at Nathan to see if he would laugh at her, but he did not.

Every time she glanced at the window she thought for sure there was someone out there in the dark, a camera lens fixated on her through the cracks in the blinds. Even when they were closed it wasn't good enough, and eventually Nathan grabbed an extra blanket off the bed and flung it over the curtain rod, successfully covering every inch of the window.

Only then did Max finally release the tension in her shoulders, letting out the first steady breath since they'd been at the cabin.

Nathan produced a joint hidden in his cigarette pack, lighting the end of it. They sprawled across her bed and watched the smoke curl up around her string of lights on the ceiling. Smoking had calmed her anxiety like no other, and she felt safe in her room with Nathan, despite all of the bullshit of the day.

"What do they want with me?" she finally whispered, as if someone were listening outside her door.

"It doesn't matter. We're going to the cops first thing, and it's going to be taken care of."

They had tried and failed four times to contact the police department in Arcadia Bay, only reaching an answering machine, another side effect of an understaffed precinct.

"Did you bring the photos with us?" Max asked.

He hesitated. "No," he finally admitted. "I panicked and dropped them. You heard them coming in. All I could think of was getting the hell out."

"We-we know that Sean was monitoring me for a bit, right? That's how he knew I was asking questions about Tracy. It's possible that's where those pictures came from, right?" Max said hopefully.

"I guess so," he said unconvincingly. "One of those pictures was taken yesterday, though. It just seems...unlikely. He has no reason to follow you. I'll look into it tomorrow. I know all the guys in my dad's security network. Let's not talk about it now."

He reached over and pulled her up close to him. Max felt his warmth all down the length of her, and her heart sped up in a very different way as she realized they were lying down. Horizontally. On her bed. This was a new development, and one she thought she could easily get used to.

He wove his hand through her hair and wrapped the other one around her waist. As she rested her face in the crook of his neck, she wished that he would just kiss her already. When he didn't, she couldn't help but begin to fall asleep to the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her.

* * *

  
When Max woke up the next morning from a fitful sleep Nathan was still in her bed, flat on his back and one arm still wrapped around her waist.

The hair on the back of her neck was slightly damp; she'd been having a nightmare about Chloe.

Successfully maneuvering out from under his heavy arm, Max got up from bed and stretched her arms and neck. Nathan looked so out of place on her funky patterned sheets, filling up most of the mattress. The hem of his white t-shirt rode up slightly, awarding Max a great view of his flat stomach and V-shaped hips. She stared a beat longer, and shamelessly grabbed her camera, unable to resist snapping a photo of him. Even with one arm flung over his eyes, he was disgustingly photogenic, always looking right out of a catalog.

Shaking herself out of her stupor, she grabbed some clothes and snuck out to the bathroom to get ready for class. She splashed water on her face and stared at her reflection. Her eyes looked red, and it was obvious she had been crying the night before. Maybe some concealer would help.

By the time she got back to her dorm, Nathan was gone, the bed made in his near-obsessive manner with perfectly tucked corners and symmetrical pillow placement.

He had left her his hourglass; it rested on her nightstand, and underneath it was the Polaroid she had just taken of him. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she read what he'd scribbled on the white space.

_I saw that._

Note to self, she thought. Nathan is a light sleeper.

* * *

  
_"Max? Hello?"_

When she finally noticed Damien standing there she nearly jumped out of her skin. Her gaze had been focused warily on a thick clump of bushes lining the brick wall outside of her class. She had been wondering if the kidnapper was in there, photographing her that very second.

"Whoa. You look kind of...is everything okay?" Damien asked her. His dark eyebrows furrowed together in concern.

"Oh. Hey. Yeah, everything's fine, I'm just distracted. One of those days, y'know?" Her voice came out rather high and unnatural.

"You just seem distracted _all_ the time is the thing." Damien spoke slowly, as if choosing his words very carefully. When she didn't answer, he continued at a quicker pace. "A bunch of us are going out for pizza tomorrow after this crazy exam and I thought it'd be fun if you came with us. There's this local group playing at the venue across the street and we were gonna check it out afterwards."

Max found it hard to focus on his words as her gaze flicked back and forth, just waiting to see a glimpse of somebody's camera. It took a few seconds for it to register that he was asking her on a group date sort of thing. She took in his messy-but-cute hairstyle and ripped jeans and all she could think of was his ignorance, he knew nothing of villainous stalkers and what it was like to see your best friend die repeatedly and to have the crushing weight of other people's lives hanging on your conscience.  

She opened her mouth and started babbling some excuse when he interrupted her.

"Is it that guy?" he asked sternly. "That one you were with before, I mean. You've acted so differently since you started hanging out with him." Here he dropped his voice even lower. "And if there's something going on, like...a situation, you can totally tell me. I can help you, I've seen stuff like this before, and—"

"What situation?"

Damien cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh, well, y'know...a controlling relationship." He reached forward and grabbed her hand; it was ice cold and clammy. "You're so distant and paranoid now. No offense, but it's a drastic change from the beginning of the semester. That's a huge red flag."

She had taken a step back, but this only made him more persistent and he stepped closer again. His fingers still clamped onto hers. He was blocking her view of the bushes, and she couldn't keep a good enough eye on them. Her panic level was rising.

"Look, I don't need your help. You're misreading the situation, and I'm actually kind of late for something, so—"

When Nathan appeared Damien dropped her hand as if it were on fire. Nathan casually slung his arm around her neck in such a way that Max knew it was not casual at all. She didn't know how Nathan managed to make "What's up, buddy?" sound threatening, but that he did.

Max did her best to ramble out an apology about the pizza as Damien slunk away, feeling less apprehension about the bushes as she and Nathan headed in the opposite direction.

* * *

  
"Let me get this straight. You _found_ a 'suspicious looking' address in your father's study, and decided to check it out yourselves."

"Yes."

"Without coming to us first."

"Yes."

"And the door to the cabin happened to be open and you happened upon some photos of Tracy Hernandez, Brian Mathers, and Miss Caulfield here?"

"For the thousandth time yes!"

Officer Berry leaned back in his chair, beer gut pressing up against the table as he folded his hands behind his head and stared down at Max and Nathan. Max suddenly wished they had put a little more truth into their tale.

"Well, your story just isn't adding up here, Mr. Prescott. We've since dispatched officers to the location and it's completely empty."

"Yeah, except for the computer room."

"There was no computer room. No desk. No photos."

"They were there!" Max insisted, cutting Nathan off before he could let loose yet another stream of expletives.

"We couldn't find so much as a fingerprint. No evidence of anyone having been there for days, weeks even," Officer Berry assured them. "In fact, the bank owns it. The lot is going up for auction. No one would have had access to it."

"We're not lying!" Nathan insisted angrily. "It was there!"

The officer paused. "I know you're upset about your father—"

Here Nathan rose from the table and stormed out of the room, in a manner not unlike Sean Prescott himself. They all believed he was making up stories to get his dad off the hook.

Max found him around the corner, pacing back and forth in front of some vending machines.

"Well, you were right about the cops being incompetent, underqualified _shitheads!_ " Nathan spat a little too loudly.

Max placed a feather-light hand on his arm. It wasn't the officers' fault and they both knew it. The kidnapper had clearly been spooked by Max and Nathan the night before and cleared the place. "Let's just get out of here. Forget them, okay?"

* * *

  
The next day after class Max froze as she heard the familiar click of a camera shutter. A chill ran through her as she scanned the green courtyard. _There._

Someone was kneeling down a short distance away, the black circular lens of the camera aimed right at her. _Click. Click._

There was a loud rushing sound in her ears, blocking out the sounds of happy chatter around her. Her feet moved forward as if controlled by an unseen force. She saw her tense fingers reach forward and wrap around the camera, ripping it from the owner's grasp.

An ugly, primordial sound erupted from her throat as the camera shattered into a hundred pieces against the sidewalk. She could barely hear the angry protesting from the camera's owner.

It was only when Nathan wrapped a hand around her arm did the whooshing in her ears stop.

"Caulfield! Calm down!"

Max remembered herself and looked in horror at the destroyed camera. The girl she'd practically assaulted had tiny wire-framed glasses perched on her nose, and her pretty brown eyes were crinkled in anger.

"What the fuck is your problem, that's my camera, you bitch!" she yelled.

The girl was a student, and most likely had been taking photos of the architecture behind Max. The building was historical, with reclaimed beams and archways. It was beautiful, and students were constantly photographing it. She was shocked at her own lashing out.

Nathan hastily pulled out his leather wallet and shoved some bills at the offended girl. "This should cover it," he mumbled. "That model was outdated, anyway."

The girl was still babbling on. "This is the art building, not the psych ward, you know!" Spectators were beginning to gather.

"Just shut the fuck up and take the money," he snapped at the girl, growing angry. He kept tugging gently at Max's arm. "Come on. Come on, let's leave. I was calling and calling you. Didn't you hear me?"

* * *

  
Max was wafting through time, drifting aimlessly down a stream with no bedrock to grab hold of her. Her fingernails were bitten down to the quick, and she was constantly looking over her shoulder in alarm.

_"When are you going to call us back, Max? Your father and I are worried about you."_

_"If you don't pay more attention in class, you're going to fail this course."_

_"Nathan says you're still doing shitty but won't tell me why. I think it's really messed up for you to keep ignoring me like this. If you're mad at me, just say so."_

And on it went. Every voice just ran together like paint blending on a canvas.

The police officially confirmed that the body found in the woods was Brian Mathers. They had discovered Sean's DNA on the body. Sean refused to say a word, putting a long holdup in their case. Nathan stayed eerily quiet throughout the entire thing, sitting on the phone with his mother for long phone conversations, most of which consisted of her unloading her frustration and sorrow at him while he smoked cigarettes, letting out a grunt of acknowledgment whenever she stopped for air.

When he spoke to Kristine on the phone, he always left the room, speaking in hushed tones. Max had caught the tail end of one of their conversations when she let herself into his dorm one afternoon.

"I think you should come back from Brazil...I _know_ you're in the middle of things, I'm not talking permanently...Look, I'll pay for the damn tickets myself, it's fine, but if you could just come for a few days at the very least...I know how mom can get, that's why I'm asking—Fine. Just fucking stay in Brazil then, Kris. I have nothing else to say."

Max's cheeks flushed when he hung up the phone and saw her watching him. If he was mad at her for eavesdropping, he didn't show it. He was sitting at his desk in gray sweatpants and no shirt, his leg bouncing wildly up and down in agitation. He pulled Max onto his lap and smothered his face in her shoulder, as he often did when his family gave him a hard time. Talking about it was not his favorite subject, and Max knew better than to push him. When he had something he needed to talk about, he usually brought it up first.

Ever since they had seen the pictures in the cabin, Max had not wanted to be alone. Nathan picked up on this immediately, and constantly waited for her outside of her classes and hung out with her in her dorm whenever she wasn't at his. His presence was the only semblance of an anchor, the only weight that helped pull her back down to earth so she wouldn't float away.

She was not sure what to call their relationship. It was something more than platonic, yet she wasn't sure she would call him her boyfriend. It seemed juvenile to be concerned with something as trivial as labels at a time like this. Whatever they were, it worked, and they drew mutual solace from each other, helping to shield the other from the trials that accosted them.

Max listened sympathetically to his rants about his family and reminded him to eat on time. She downloaded new music onto his iPod and watched boring nature documentaries with him that he liked so much. Once she discovered his secret love for English television, she downloaded episodes of The Inbetweeners and The IT Crowd to put on his laptop for him.

He brought her her favorite strawberry shakes from the hipster ice cream place down the street that he hated and rubbed the knots out of her neck. He filled her gas tank and took her camera in for repairs when she was in class even though she yelled at him not to. He loved to spend money on her and she was constantly berating him for it, but it all went in one ear and out the other.

It had only been four weeks since that first day in group therapy, but they developed a routine as if they had been together for months. They searched for any possible distractions, anything to take their minds off of Brian and Jefferson and Sean and dark rooms and photographs, out of leads and out of hope.

* * *

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _You Got Me All Wrong_ \- Dios Malos: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dCuaVEEflxs  
>  _Slow Moves_ \- Jose Gonzales: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KaSYL3FRgnM  
>  _Paradise Circus (Zeds Dead Remix)_ \- Massive Attack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u8C-ZTQJIkU

When Max's phone rang and the screen flashed Victoria, Max was not ready for the violent shriek that assaulted her eardrums.

"Hello? What is it?" Max asked frantically, instantly going into panic mode.

"It's happening! I got accepted to a university, that's what! One of the most prestigious photography programs in the country, I might add!"

"That's great! I didn't even know you'd applied places." The semester was nearing its end, and Max realized she herself had been careless in preparing for the next one.

"It was a surprise. Didn't want to get my hopes up too soon and all. I am just so thrilled. I can finally get out of this crap college and focus on my actual career again. I'm right back on track where I need to be."

"I'm so happy for you, Victoria, you really deserve this. You're a great photographer. I'll bet your parents are trippin' right now."

"Oh, my god, they're through the roof. Ecstatic is more like. My mom's so happy she's even renting me a beach house for a party."

"Party?"

"Hell yeah, girl! I am going to throw the biggest, most prestigious party this town has ever seen. Just _wait_ until I tell you who I've got booked for the headlining DJ."

Victoria chattered happily about her party for another fifteen minutes, brainstorming menu items and guest list options. Max hadn't seen her this happy...well, ever. Reconciling with Nathan and coming to terms with the extent of Jefferson's influence over him had really snapped her out of her funk, and the fact that she'd had the courage to start her life again was noteworthy.

Even though she was excited for Victoria, she couldn't help feeling sad that she was the only one stuck in one place, and her heart weighed heavily with the pressure of being stagnant, unable to lift herself up again like everybody around her.

* * *

  
Max was in Nathan's dorm room, her feet on his coffee table balancing a textbook on her knees when she looked down and noticed the corner of a polaroid sticking out from underneath his couch.

She leaned over to retrieve it; it was a photo of her and Damien, the one they'd taken outside of English class. Nathan must have taken it out of her bag when he went through her photos. There was a large footprint across it, marring part of Damien's face.

"Hey. Where did this come from?" she inquired, holding it up.

Nathan maintained his poker face. "Huh. Dunno how that got down there."

"Oh, really? Mr. I-Can-Spot-A-Magazine-Out-Of-Place-From-Across-the-Room. You didn't know this was here?"

"Nope. Must have accidentally fallen out of your bag the other day."

"That's the story you're sticking to."

"Yeah."

She rolled her eyes at his feigned ignorance and resisted the urge to laugh. If that's how he wanted to play it, that was fine. She turned her attention back to her books as his leg bounced up and down.

"It's just," Nathan started again after a pause. "I don't see why that guy has to hang around you all the time."

"He hardly hangs around me all the time. We've only spoken a handful of times."

"And in those times, you're saying he's never once asked you out?"

Max pinched her lips together. "No, I'm not saying that..."

"Exactly. That's what I'm talking about."

"Well, so what? I told him I didn't want to go out. What's your point?"

"My point is that you have horrible taste in guys."

Now she put her pen down. "What are you talking about?" she exclaimed.

"This douche, and Warren, I mean come on. It's like you need supervision or something."

Max couldn't believe what she was hearing. "I hang out with you, don't I?"

"Exactly my point," he said darkly. His hand let out a sudden twitch.

"Quit with the self-deprecation, it won't work. You can't talk me into feeling sorry for you when you act like this. You don't know _either_ of those guys, you're just judging them unfairly."

"Whatever."

"You know, I can't really concentrate here. I'm going home."

"You're leaving?"

"Don't act so surprised! People tend to leave when being treated like shit. Don't follow me."

She traipsed angrily out of his dorm building and across the campus, feeling the sensation of déjà vu. There were plenty of bustling students, most of them just getting out of their afternoon classes. Despite this, Max felt exposed whenever she was outside. Seeing those photos of herself had sent her spiraling into memories of Jefferson that she could not bear to relive. Surely she was safe in daylight, though. Her anger at Nathan outweighed her fear, and she pressed onward.

* * *

  
Max left campus to take a drive to her favorite camera store, blowing off steam as she browsed through their new lenses. When she made it back to her dorm, she was still in her car when her eyes were immediately drawn to a white SUV sitting in the parking lot. It couldn't be...

On closer inspection, she saw the same stocky guy as before with the thick neck sitting behind the wheel. Andre.

_Oh, shit._

A chill swept through her. She wasn't going into her dorm building only to end up cornering herself, she knew that much.

Max kept her gaze inextricably on Andre and pulled out her cell phone, running on blind panic.

"Hello?"

"Nathan," she hissed into the phone. "Lackey number one aka Andre is outside of my dorm."

Silence. "Hello??"

"Yeahhh, you weren't supposed to actually see him. I hired him to watch your building."

"You _what_?" Max could actually feel her blood start to boil.

"Well, it's not like my dad is employing his services at the moment. You didn't want me around, and since the moronic police don't believe us, someone's gotta keep an eye out for this psycho on the loose."

She gripped the phone tightly. "No, someone _doesn_ 't gotta!" she insisted. "There is no way that I'm letting your father's body guard sit outside my dorm all night, that's so weird! And for what? We have no idea who this person is or what he looks like. Do you think he's gonna show up in a black ski mask or a menacing eyepatch?? And can you maybe see how sending a bodyguard to tail someone being stalked without telling them first _might_ set off some triggers?"

He started to form a response, but Max cut him off mid sentence. "Never mind! I can't speak to you right now."

She hung up the phone, and her anger propelled her out of the car and across the parking lot. She marched right up to Andre's window and rapped sharply on it before she could stop to think what she was doing.

Andre's window slid down neatly. "Miss Caulfield," he said in his deep voice.

"Andre? Yeah, hi. Your services aren't going to be necessary for the remainder of the evening. Sorry you had to drive all the way out here but I suggest you go back where you came from."

His expression was that of a statue's, stony and unblinking.

"Mr. Prescott has already compensated me for my troubles. The night is paid for."

"So go hit up the blackjack tables or something! But you can kindly inform _Mr_. _Prescott_ ," she said mockingly, "to stop sticking his rich nose where it doesn't belong, and that he can take a flying leap!"

She realized her fists were clenched, and she had all but stamped her foot at him.

Slowly the statuesque expression on Andre's face began to crack, and his face split open in a wide grin, revealing a very straight set of pearly whites. His intimidating persona crumbled instantly, and he let out a booming belly laugh that shook his whole vehicle.

As he turned the key in the ignition, he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he caught his breath. "I can see why he likes you so much. Good evening, Miss Caulfield."

Max watched him pull out of the parking lot, his red brake lights receding in the distance.

* * *

  
When a loud knock sounded at her door a half hour later, Max was pretty sure she could guess who it was.

She unlocked her door. "Come to lecture me about dismissing James Earl Jones out there?"

"What?" Nathan said, confusion stopping him in his tracks.

"Andre," she said.

"Oh. Yeah, you sent him home!"

Max shut the door behind him, locking it again immediately. "Of course I sent him home, that was really uncalled for. And the fact that you tried to do it secretly, that sucks too! That scared the shit out of me, seeing him just sitting outside my building."

"Okay, I didn't mean to scare you, but the basic premise is the same, anyone could come in here, it's not safe!"

She turned away from him.

"Look, I'm sorry," he finally said. "I'm really sorry. I should have told you about Andre, and I shouldn't have said those things back there to begin with."

She didn't answer, and he drew his fingers through his hair with frustration and continued. "I know I was acting like a jealous asshole. I'm not very good at this. Once again, I'm taking things out on you, and I didn't mean to. Obviously I fucking suck at expressing myself."

"Well, I could have told you that."

He finally cracked a smile. "If you want space, I get it. I'll back off, for real this time."

Max heaved a sigh. "I don't want space. I'm terrified right now and being alone makes it worse. But if those are the kinds of things you have to say to me, then just forget it, because I don't need that right now."

"It won't happen again."

He reached for her, enveloping her tightly. He felt warm and she let herself relax against him with a sigh. Soon his lips were trailing on her skin and it felt like there was a flame burning low somewhere deep in her stomach. She could barely remember why she was supposed to be angry with him.

Apparently he was experiencing some fire of his own, since he pressed his mouth against hers, sliding his hands over her hips in such a way that made Max want to wrap her legs around him. This was a very alarming discovery for Max, who had never experienced the desire to wrap any appendage over another person, legs or otherwise.

Nathan's grip was strong, and she never wanted him to stop moving his lips like that. Was it normal, she wondered, to feel sadness, anger, and then lust in such a short span of time? He made her absolutely irrational, and Max took out this very sudden aggression by capturing his bottom lip between her teeth. This was met with a low, satisfied sound in the back of his throat as he deepened their kiss. The same rush and tightness between her legs returned.

Max noticed that they had somehow moved onto her bed, and his hands were venturing into some very interesting places. Alarms went off in her head. If he could distract her so well that she didn't even notice being pushed onto a bed, what else could he distract her into doing? She clearly couldn't trust herself to act responsibly around him. Max was suddenly very aware of Nathan's advantage when it came to sex. She had never had it, and she was very positive that he had. More than once.

As per usual, Nathan sensed her hesitation immediately and stilled his hands, moving them back into the safe zone. This gave Max time to regain her senses and collect herself. With a certain amount of reluctance, she noted, Nathan scooted off of her, leaving a rush of cold air in the spots he had previously occupied. He didn't get out of her bed, however, only kept his arm curled underneath her and around her shoulder.

"I won't do anything," he promised.

"Do you think it's...wrong? Whatever we're starting here? I mean, given the circumstances," she said.

He only planted a lazy kiss on the top of her head. "Who fucking cares? Go to sleep."

* * *

  
Max sat across from Dr. Stern, who was perched on her powder blue armchair. They were in the pastel-colored office, the only sound coming from the ticking clock on the wall. As usual, Dr. Stern was waiting patiently for Max to say something.

"I haven't seen you in a while," she finally prompted.

Max shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, well. It's been complicated."

"Complicated in what way?"

"I've been busy."

"With what?"

She shrugged. "Homework, I guess. I've been in Arcadia Bay quite a bit."

Wendy's eyebrows raised slightly, and she adjusted her clipboard. "Arcadia Bay. That's a big step for you, to be spending so much time there. How are you getting on?"

"Fine," she lied.

"Tell me a little about what you do there."

"I just...hang out with my friends."

"Have you been to the cemetery?"

Max paused a beat or two. "Yes."

"I've got to say, I'm really impressed with what I'm hearing. You sound like you're making progress. But you look stressed. More nervous than usual. How have you been feeling lately about all this?"

"Really, I'm fine." She resisted the urge to pick at a hangnail on her index finger.

"How about Sean Prescott's arrest?" Max snapped to attention upon hearing his name. "With all this time you're spending in Arcadia Bay, you must have heard about it. How do you feel about that?"

"How do you know about Sean Prescott?" Max certainly hadn't mentioned Nathan's father when she told her about the court case.

Dr. Stern cracked a smile. "Arcadia Bay isn't the only town with a news station, you know."

"R-right."

There was a long pause. "Max, do you remember how we talked about closure before? I imagine that hearing of missing Blackwell teens gave you some sort of reaction."

"None of that has anything to do with me. So not really."

* * *

  
_There, there was that squirm._

Wendy Stern sat across from Max in her office. It was all too easy to tell when the girl was hiding something, and there was something special in her face when she was afraid. She could understand Jefferson's fixation with her. Max may not have been very bright, but her fears and insecurities brought out the most becoming expressions. Her eyes gave everything away.

It had been all too simple to forge phony psychologist and behavioral science degrees to frame on the wall. After that it was a mere matter of renting office space in Portland, and hacking a few email accounts to get herself introduced to Vanessa Caulfield, who yes, as it turns out, _was_ looking for a new therapist in Portland for her daughter.

Easy as pie.

When Mark Jefferson had been taking photographs of Blackwell students, Wendy Stern had collaborated with him for quite some time. He had stumbled across a gold mine for God's sake. With a financial backer for a secluded dark room and access to the right drugs, he was able to send these girls on their way while they had no memory of ever being photographed. As a fellow fetishist and a frequent buyer of his photos, Wendy had made it convenient for Jefferson to share his work and prospects with her. Like most men, it was a matter of appealing to his narcissism.

What the dipshit didn't know was that there was a world of anonymous buyers above and beyond the sad little circle he had taken such care to assemble. Wendy had been selling his work for double the price to various clients of a much higher caliber that she'd had the good fortune to be connected with.

He would often send her photos of possible subjects from the Blackwell yearbook. He was particularly excited about a student of his named Max Caulfield whose innocent countenance and talent for photography made her a prime subject. Unfortunately, he was arrested before he could nab her. Max had always been the feather that Jefferson had never managed to stick in his cap. She would have been his crown jewel.

After the news that Jefferson had been arrested, she combed all the stations for details, details, anything that would let her know how much information the cops had concerning outside buyers of Jefferson's. She had never given him her real name, of course, but who knows what kind of incriminating paper trails that imbecile had left exposed?

Wendy had gone into hiding. She'd been in hiding before, and it was the worst of scenarios. She was no stranger to the world of fake IDs, cash only transactions, and frequent trips to shitty, run-down hotels, leaning over chipped sinks inhaling the chemical scent of the bleach in her hair, switching out yet another pair of colored eye contacts. She had watched press conference after press conference, following the case diligently. Sean's son Nathan Prescott had been connected to the dark room and assigned to rehab. When Wendy saw Max's face on the news as a witness, she recognized her instantly.

Things had quieted eventually. The investigation was considered closed, and Wendy could breathe easily again.

But what a shock it had been when she began to receive prettily worded threats from the slippery financial backer himself, Sean Prescott. Apparently the police never found evidence of outside buyers because he had swiped it from the dark room before it was investigated.

The slimy weasel actually had the audacity to demand that she make a series of "donations" to his fast-sinking real estate project, or else he was going to disclose her location to the police. Pathetic.

If Wendy was one thing, it was patient, and she had all the time in the world to get herself close to the Prescotts in some way, to find something to pin on Sean. She didn't want him dead, she wanted him to suffer. He'd be sorry for ever thinking he could manipulate money out of her. Wendy Stern had far more intelligence than he ever would.

She bided her time, all right, watching him like a predator. When she discovered that Sean was having an affair with a seventeen-year old she thought she'd never stop laughing at the justice of it all. Here was her opportunity to get police spotlights back on Sean and obtain her first subject to photograph. After all, without Jefferson's work to steal and make profit from, she was experiencing a serious cash flow issue. The money she'd earn from Vanessa Caulfield could only hold her over for so long. She would take Tracy from Blackwell just like the others, killing two birds with one stone.

In the meantime, she had forged her credentials and inserted herself into Max Caulfield's life, and got to finally meet her in the flesh. She was just as beautiful in person. It was positively sinful how easy it was to poke and prod her in tender places just to watch her pretty face crinkle with angst.

Nathan had been harder to gain access to. He already had designated therapists assigned per his rehab facility. It had taken ages to get him signed up for group therapy at the rec center once his mandated counseling expired. The number of people she managed to fool with her therapist persona tickled her like nothing else.

The look on Max Caulfield's face when she spotted Nathan for the first time in group had been priceless...Ah, if only she'd been able to capture that moment on film.

Wendy had abducted Tracy right out of the parking lot. She had driven her to the outskirts of town, ready to try her own hand at photography. She had dabbled before, of course, but it was a hobby she hadn't returned to for quite some years. Unfortunately she overestimated her abilities as an artist. Nothing came out right, and her clients noted the drop in quality. They were only willing to pay half their normal price for the photos of Tracy. With all of the money she had wasted on a camera and equipment, the blow to her finances was severe.

The decision to abduct Brian had been a gamble on her part. The ignorant hick cops of Arcadia Bay were taking much too long to discover Tracy and Sean's affair. Once they found out the two were romantically involved, they'd have to set their sights on him for sure. It had been risky, but Wendy aimed to light a fire underneath them. Her fascination with obtaining a new subject and her desire to pressure the police into finding a culprit superceded the risk of taking Brian.

When Tracy escaped from the cabin due to Wendy's own negligence, she had not held her breath that Tracy would be able to give the police anything useful. She was a terrible subject, anyway.

Brian gave her more trouble and had to be drugged twice as often as Tracy. His photos were received more poorly than Tracy's as well. When he ended up costing her money between the drugs and the pay cut on the photos, she had killed him out of disgust and anger. A rash decision on her part. Her patience was wearing thin.

Next she had to rectify her mistake. Planting Sean's DNA onto Brian's body had been no simple trick, but she had succeeded nonetheless. Finally, _finally_ , Sean was arrested, and she could congratulate herself on a job well done.

She was not satisfied, however. Max Caulfield was a loose end, and she grew discontent at the obsession. When Max started avoiding her appointments, Wendy took it upon herself to follow her, only to discover Max had picked up a little investigating hobby. It was quite darling, really, the sheer amount of empathy that Max was practically brimming with as she desperately searched for answers to fill her own emptiness inside.

And then the little bitch had broken into the vacant cabin. Wendy barely had time to put her computer to sleep and slip out when she first heard the intruders outside. Crouched behind some prickly shrubs waiting to get a look at who was disturbing her in the middle of the night, the last person she expected to see come around the back of the cabin was _Max_ _Caulfield_. Nathan Prescott was with her, and they broke right into the hideout.

Max Caulfield was certainly more interesting to her at that moment than she'd ever been.

Just how this unassuming slip of a girl tracked her down was unfathomable to Wendy. Besides her expressive features, there wasn't anything particularly extraordinary about this girl. Yet here she was. This only escalated the fixation.

In an attempt to scare them off of the premises, Wendy came around front and began to make noises. Sure enough, they disappeared into the night, but not before they found her photos in the desk drawer. This was a problem. If Max knew her identity, then she was now a threat that needed to be stopped, just like Sean Prescott.

When Max had actually shown up to their next session, Wendy was floored. She asked her the routine questions and watched her eyes very carefully.

Max had no idea who she was.

This girl was no actress. If she'd had even a hint that Wendy was involved she wouldn't have strolled so cavalierly into her office.

Wendy had been unable to resist bringing up Sean and the missing kids.

Watching her squirm in the armchair across from her gave her almost more delight than watching Sean get hauled to jail for crimes he did not commit.

The urge to take her now was overpowering. All it would take was a good blow to the head, Max's beautiful eyes rolling back as she was lost in the darkness. Her daydream screeched to a halt when she remembered Nathan Prescott in the waiting room on the other side of the door. There would be other times.

She had plans to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyooo, that's a lot of information at once, no? countdown, three chapters left, let's do this thing.
> 
> (i swear there's an actual reason that nathan's acting so unbalanced, it's not thrown in there for nothing)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (all of these are instrumental. some of my fav piano, specifically)  
> A Fuoco by Ludovico Einaudi  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5xM5gPncxvU
> 
> October by Stephan Moccio  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UhfZTqdl6m4
> 
> Nuvole Nere by Ludovico Einaudi  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bUFmlZ0_6z8
> 
> I added timestamps because I jump all over the place for suspense purposes and there's a specific order I wanted to reveal things in. it might get confusing if you don't note the time before each section

* * *

  
Wendy Stern adjusted her dark sunglasses and cursed at no one in particular. Maybe at Nathan Prescott.

He was always _there_ , glued to Max's side, immovable.

It was nauseating.

Wendy had lurked on campus for days trying to approach Max. The possibilities were endless. She was positively gleeful that Max had not discovered her identity. Max knew she was being followed, that was certain. Her little doe eyes constantly scanned her surroundings with delicious fear. The only difficult part should have been figuring out the best way to play with her.

But Nathan Prescott was making it impossible. He was getting in the way of their game. Wendy waited patiently outside of Max's dorm building constantly, but it was no use. He slept there every night. Whenever Max didn't come home, she knew that she was with _him_.

Wendy chewed absentmindedly at a loose fleck of skin on her lip. She was not ignorant to her own short stature and lack of formal physical training. While she knew the basics and wasn't useless in a fight, she'd never be able to overpower both of them at once. She had not the funds to hire a professional, which would have been her first instinct.

She had a very specific window, and it was closing rapidly. This wouldn't do at all. Once again, she was going to have to get her hands dirty.

* * *

  
"Come on, if you're fucking him, you have to tell me."

"Geez! I'm not...fucking him, Victoria."

"Listen to you lower your voice when you say it." Victoria's laughter was loud over the phone.

"I'm at the bookstore," Max hissed, ducking her head as if it would stifle her voice from traveling. "It's not exactly something I want to discuss here out loud."

"Leave the bookstore," Victoria demanded. "Seriously, I need details, I'm starved for details. I haven't seen you in ages."

"It's barely been a week," Max said.

"Whatever, tell me the truth about you two! You can't hide it from me, he already mentioned sleeping over."

Max had been drinking coffee from a to-go cup, and she choked on it and sputtered, dripping coffee onto the floor. The man behind the register had a sharp nose and chin and looked at Max heavily with disapproval. She mumbled an apology and shuffled out the door.

"He's mentioned it to you?"

"Relax, you're getting all high and squeaky. Not in a bragging, conquest kind of way. It slipped out that he crashed over there, it was totally accidental. So spill."

Max swallowed. With the way that Nathan had been touching her, she'd be lying if she said she hadn't been thinking about it. When they started kissing, he used all of these tricks that she was unaccustomed to, brushing his thumb across the peak of her nipple, and then back again, biting her earlobe or kissing her just on the inside of her thigh whenever she wore pajama shorts to bed. These simple touches exhilarated her—however brief they were—but they also unnerved her because they were just reminders that he knew _exactly_ what he was doing and how her body would respond, and she was clueless.

He always went at a steady pace and gauged her reactions carefully. It was uncanny how well he could read her. Often he was already putting a halt on things before Max knew herself that it was going too far. If he was bothered or tired of her inexperience, he made no mention of it. She had expected him to be pushy like he was with everything else, but he surprised her yet again with seemingly infinite patience.

"I'm telling the truth," Max promised. "I haven't slept with him."

"But you want to."

Max's face felt hot. "I don't know."

"Sure you do. You can tell me! It's not like you're going to shock me. Trust me, that's old news. I'm telling you, I could give you some great insider info."

Max heard the scratch of Victoria's nail file over the line.

"What's old news?"

"You know. Me and Nathan."

Max nearly dropped her coffee completely. "You're not serious."

"You mean you didn't know?" The scratching stopped. "I-I thought you..." Victoria trailed off.

Max gaped like a fish that had washed up on the dry shore.

"Please don't read anything into this," Victoria pleaded quickly. "It was nothing. Seriously nothing. Like, it happened one time, and that was two years ago. Nathan was all depressed, and it was fast and rushed, and we didn't even talk about it the next day, that's how much of a nothing it was. We both agree we are _so_ better suited as friends."

"Yeah...I have to go."

"Max, don't be mad."

She hung up the phone, dazed.

Victoria and Nathan.

What had she been doing while everyone else was becoming cool about sex? She felt like an utter child, floundering at a subject that everybody had already mastered. Nathan must think she was an idiot.

She did her best to ignore the jealous burn in her chest at the thought of them together. She tried not to picture it, but thoughts proved impossible to control. Max knew it wasn't fair to judge partners based on their previous sexual endeavors, and she tried her hardest to put it out of her head as she went back to her car, thoughts of bookstore browsing out the window.

* * *

  
_6:42 pm, Portland_

It was Friday, and Max was walking through campus with her head in a textbook, desperately trying to cram in some study time on her way to Nathan's.

While she felt it prudent to stick close to him, she didn't feel particularly excited to see him today. In addition to the weirdness introduced from knowing details about his past affairs, Nathan had been acting standoffish and temperamental lately. He clearly wasn't getting enough sleep, perpetual shadows darkening underneath his eyes. Either way, she wasn't interested in doing any kissing tonight, that was for sure.

"Ouch. I'm sorry, I didn't see you," Max apologized to the person she'd bumped into and kept walking.

"Hey."

Max looked again and recognized the girl with the dark purple lipstick that she'd seen hanging onto Nathan in between classes.

"You're that chick that Nate always hangs out with, right?" the girl asked. Max tried not to curl her lip at this girl's calling him 'Nate.'

"Yeah," she answered slowly. Now she noticed the girl's runny mascara and shaky fingers that clamped around a cigarette. Her face looked wet from crying. "Are...are you okay?"

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you," the girl said as she took a rough drag. "To his dorm. That shithead just tried to roofie me. Wanted to take some pics of me with his fancy fucking camera."

Max had been holding her phone, and despite it slipping out of her fingers so violently she barely noticed it hit the ground. "Are—are you kidding me?" It felt like her knees were going to drop out from under her.

"We were just hanging out like normal and he asked me if I wanted something to drink and—" the girl inhaled shakily. "Nothing happened, but...I don't want to fucking talk about it. I'm about to go report him to campus police. Just stopped to catch my breath. Figured you'd want to know."

"W-what's your name?" Max whispered. She felt unable to draw a breath.

"Geneva." She exhaled more steadily and swiped angrily at her tear-stained face. Without another word she dropped her cigarette to the ground, the ash leaving a gray streak on the sidewalk as she stomped it out with the thick sole of her combat boot and headed the other direction.

Max felt her heart shatter into tiny pieces. What the hell was going on? The hits just kept on coming. She trusted him, and all this time he had regressed to his low point, repeating the actions of his past, the actions of a cowardly boy whose parents denied him the professional help he needed for the sake of their tarnished reputation. His behavior hadn't been justified back then, but at least there'd been an explanation. But what about now? So much for all the therapy and regulated med combos.

If Nathan was still hurting people, why hadn't he tried something with her yet? It made no sense, she was sure she had glimpsed sincerity in his eyes during all of their talks. If his goal was to hurt Max too, then his forbearance was astounding.

As she speculated on his behavior from the start, she was struck with a panicked thought. He had been downright importunate in his warning her off of the investigation at the beginning. He had _insisted_ his father wasn't involved in any kidnapping. In fact, he had always seemed a little too sure of his father's innocence. When Warren traced the IP address' location, Nathan practically hit the ceiling with rage. He discouraged her over and over to stay away from the cabin. Did he know those pictures were in there? He stayed awfully close to her throughout the duration of this whole debacle. Recollecting his behavior in a different light entirely, the warmth and safety she'd felt with him began to ebb as it was replaced with the icy clasp of fear. Maybe his proximity had been for different reasons than she'd thought.

These and a thousand more questions and doubts about Nathan crashed through her head like a wave, and she almost didn't hear her phone ring.

"Oh, man," she muttered as she picked it up from the sidewalk. It had popped out of its case, and the shell of the phone had a deep split down the length of it. The screen was cracked and she couldn't even tell who was calling her. "Hello?"

"Max!" Victoria cried with excitement. Loud voices sounded in the background. "What time are you gonna be here? I want to make sure Francisco is still here to take some shots of us—No! I told you guys that table goes against the back wall! And what is that ice doing out so soon? It'll melt by the time people get here."

"What?"

"Sorry, this catering staff is useless."

"Who's Francisco?" Her phone was cutting in and out and it was difficult to hear her.

"The photographer I hired for the party, remember? I'm documenting _everything_ about this day."

Shit, she'd forgotten about the party again.

"Look, Vic, I just got some really weird news about Nathan. It's important. I need to follow up on some—"

"Hello? You got some weird news about what? What is with this connection, I can't hear you worth shit."

"Nathan. There's something up with Nathan and I don't know if I can make it tonight—"

"The static on the line is crazy, you're cutting out. You better not be making up some excuse why you can't come, this is the most important day of the year for me, and I need my best friend here to celebrate. I'll see—"

The connection was dropped as her phone died. The shattered screen was black and the power button did nothing. She had dropped it too many times.

Max didn't feel safe going to Nathan's dorm. If Geneva was telling the truth, Max could be putting herself in danger. But who was she kidding, what kind of person lied about something as serious as that? She had looked seriously messed up with her mascara smeared around her eyes like that, shaking from the shock. Max's head felt muddled and her shoulders slumped in despondence.

She heaved a sigh. Victoria would kill her if she didn't show up to her party. She'd been such a good friend, and Max knew she should be there for Victoria for once. Nathan was just going to have to wait.

* * *

  
_6:59 pm, Portland_

Max was late. Nathan was starting to get nervous. She had texted him thirty minutes ago to say she was headed over, and now she still wasn't here and her phone was going straight to voicemail. He tried not to think the worst as he peered out of his window at the sidewalk below.

Normally the lack of punctuality wouldn't be this much of a concern. But with a murderous stalker on the loose...

Visions of the psycho abducting Max and stuffing her into his car flashed across his mind, unbidden. Every time he tried to sit he couldn't get his damned leg to settle, so he took to pacing near the window, telling himself that if she didn't come within five minutes, he'd go to her dorm.

He began to count, and only reached thirty-seven seconds when he said fuck it and reached for his shoes.

The evening air was warm, and crickets began to chirp peacefully around the campus, singing their nighttime solos. He scanned the buildings around him, seeing no sign of her. As he advanced down the sidewalk, a strange sight caused him to stop in his tracks.

_What the fuck?_

He squinted in the direction of the parking lot. Was that...Geneva talking to that therapist lady? He recognized Geneva by her iconic combat boots, the buckles glinting silver under the lights in the parking lot. She was leaning into the driver's side window of a black Honda that he'd never seen before. The driver looked just like Dr. Stern, the short, soft-spoken woman who led the group therapy meetings he'd tried out.

If Geneva was also a patient of hers, it was pretty odd for them to be meeting at a college campus.

He caught the end of their conversation as he crept within earshot, obstructed behind a brown truck.

"Trust me, you shoulda seen her face," Geneva was saying. "Max won't go near there tonight with a twelve-foot pole. Pay up."

To his further shock, Dr. Stern stuffed money into Geneva's palm and reversed her car with a squeal of rubber, barely giving Geneva time to leap back from the tires as she sped away.

"Bitch," she muttered, counting her bills and retrieving a cigarette from her studded purse.

"Care to tell me what that was about?" When he spoke he could tell he'd startled her, even though she had excellent control of her poker face.

"Oh, hey, Nate," she replied coolly, her voice a pitch higher than when she'd spoken to Dr. Stern. "You don't look so hot. I was just chatting with a friend."

"About Max? Funny, I didn't think you knew Max."

Geneva blinked her sooty eyelashes twice. "We just met. Funny, I didn't see you standing there watching me."

"So you've seen her recently? I'm looking for her."

"She didn't say where she was going."

Now Nathan stepped forward, letting his height tower over her, a favorite trick of his father's. "Cut the bullshit. What's going on?"

Now she let out a gravelly chuckle. "Okay, okay. You can quit the sexy menacing look already. This random hag came up to me today and offered me three hundred bucks to help her play some sort of prank on this Max chick. I didn't ask questions, it was _three hundred bucks_. I'm a broke drama major, I wasn't going to turn down my first acting job."

"Get to the point!" he snapped. He could tell that this was not going in a good direction.

"Don't get mad, okay? It was just some stupid shit about you. Tell Max I'm a pathological liar or something. I'm sure it'll blow over."

"What stupid shit?" he said, his jaw tightening.

She didn't look a bit ashamed as she flicked a lighter at the end of her cigarette and took a long drag. "About you trying to take pervy pictures of me. Don't make a big deal out of this. If she's really your friend she won't believe it."

Nathan had no words for her. No pleasant words, anyway.

* * *

  
_8:44 pm, Arcadia Bay_

Victoria's party was huge. And sparkly.

When she had said 'beach house,' Max had mistakenly pictured a standard weather-worn two bedroom big enough for a family taking a couple week's vacation in the summer, rather than the sleek, luxurious monstrosity in front of her. Once inside, she could tell just by the front room that the theme colors were silver and gold. It was decorated heavily with various dangling streamers that glittered in the overhead light. The garnished buffet table was blanketed in rows of dainty-looking appetizers and silver champagne glasses. Music was blasting from the meticulously placed speakers; something electronic-sounding that was easy to dance to.

True to her word, Victoria had hired some famous DJ, but Max had already forgotten his name. His booth was in the next room over, writhing bodies packed on the dance floor, moving in time to the beat.

Victoria appeared instantly, converging on her at once.

"Max!" she shrieked upon spotting her lingering by the hors d'oeuvres. Victoria pulled her into a wobbly hug, her cheek hot against Max's face. She had on an elegant gold party dress and glitter on her chest. It was clear that she had started drinking much earlier, and her voice rose loudly above the others as she was caught in the joy of the moment. There were a band of followers close on her heels, and all the noise was starting to give Max a headache.

"Isn't this place _great_?" Victoria gushed at Max. "You have got to try those little meatball things on the toothpicks, they are just to die for."

"Great party. It's like it's your birthday or something."

"This is better than my birthday, there's no achievement in that! This is special. This means something, you know?"

Before Max could answer, there was a torrent of people jostling around them. "Shots! Shots! Shots!"

Victoria cheered loudly with them and the entire congregation shifted to stand around a neon-lit bar.

"No, thanks. I don't want to drink tonight," Max said in protest of the pink shotglass Victoria passed over to her.

"You're not _drinking_?" she exclaimed. "This night is a celebration! I got into the university of my dreams and you can't take one shot with me?"

"Fine, fine," Max acquiesced. She didn't possess the fortitude to withstand Victoria's vivacity at the moment.

Everybody raised their glasses up, clear liquid sloshing over the tops as they toasted "To Vic!"

It went down smoothly enough, but whatever it was was strong, and Max could already feel her head getting heavier. Victoria had not skimped on the beverage cost, that was for sure.

The night went on, and Victoria tried fruitlessly to get Max to loosen up and dance with them. Her mind just wasn't in it. Victoria, thankfully, was having too good an evening for it to bother her or come to her attention. Fortunately Max hadn't seen Nathan at all. When she asked about him, all Victoria had said was, "Nathan? No, he never said if he was coming."

"Let me know if you see him, okay? And don't...go anywhere with him."

"Yeah, sure," she said, distracted. She gestured drunkenly to some guy in a polo shirt across the room, and Max knew she wasn't even listening. Trying to talk to her about what Geneva had said would turn out pointless. The thought made her stomach churn uncomfortably, and she suddenly needed some fresh air.

Going out the big glass doors to the back, Max took deep breaths and listened to the restless tide in the ocean as the bass thumped steadily behind her in the house. There were some reclining beach chairs a few feet away on the patio, and she settled down into one. Her head still hurt, and she wished she could just shut her brain off, rather than rethink all of the ugly things Nathan had done.

* * *

  
_9:28 pm, Arcadia Bay_

Wendy couldn't help letting her lips curl into a grin. She had executed this perfectly. Jefferson could have learned a thing or two from her, the imbecile. Thanks to that greasy drama student, Max and Nathan were successfully separated for the night.

Getting to know Max so well in their sessions proved useful, as Wendy knew exactly which buttons of hers to press, and hearing that Nathan was up to his old tricks was sure to trigger Max into an uneasy spiral. Now that neurotic degenerate wouldn't get in their way. Really, she had so many plans for her and Max.

The salty ocean air was fresh and cool; Wendy could smell it even hidden back in the foliage where the other trail to the lighthouse began, scoping out the beach house. As email hacking was a favorite of Wendy's, she had quickly discovered and pegged this party as her golden opportunity.

She moved closer to the house, still crouched, in perfect cover. What next? It was likely that she was going to have to sneak in the back in order to get close to Max.

The scheme was halfway formulated when the big glass doors in the back swung open and out walked Max herself, saving Wendy the trouble. It was almost spooky. It took all of Wendy's control not to laugh out loud with glee.

Max lowered herself into a patio chair. Wendy ignored her racing heart and began to soak her cloth with the chloroform she'd brought. _This is it. Finally._

* * *

  
_7:16 pm, Portland_

Something was up. Something seriously bad. If only Max would answer her damn phone.

He had endless questions regarding Dr. Stern, and no way to get answers. Things were fishy, and he had a bad feeling in his gut. The least he could do was get ahold of Max to warn her. She wasn't in her dorm, and her car wasn't in the parking lot.

Victoria's party. He checked his watch—it was starting soon. As far as he knew, Max was planning on showing up there. If she really had believed what Geneva said about him, it was no wonder she had turned her phone off to ignore him. She was probably creeped as shit. He hated himself for the things he had done in high school, and could only imagine what Max was thinking about him right now.

He texted Victoria. Much to his irritation, she didn't respond to any of them, as was typical of her when she was partying.

Without a second thought he got into his truck and started the engine, not giving it any time to warm up before shifting into reverse and heading on the road. He was going to make it to Arcadia Bay in record time, watch if he didn't.

_Thwap thwap thwap._

"What the hell?" Nathan threw the truck into park and jumped out. "No!"

His front two tires were completely flat, not a bit of air in them. In his haste to leave he hadn't even noticed. There were blatant puncture wounds in each of the tires, and he knew it wasn't by accident. He let out a strangled protest at the sky. The temptation to break something was severe, and he resisted the urge to kick in his tail light.

If this psycho thought a couple of slashed tires would stop Nathan Prescott, he had another thing coming.

Eighteen minutes later and he was back on the road, flying towards the highway. He tried Max's cell again, just in case. Voicemail.

He had changed the tires in record time, and was still in the middle of congratulating himself when there was a loud pop from the engine and white smoke poured from the grill.

This could not be happening. He had just gotten it back from a 3,000 mile checkup. This was sabotage.

"Shit."

* * *

  
_9:37 pm, Arcadia Bay_

The rag was rough against her face, and the smell was sweet—sickly sweet. It smothered her nose and her mouth like an iron press, the pressure unbearable.

Max had been just about to get up from the lounge chair and go back inside when it had clamped down on her face. She fought back, clawing desperately at the hand that held the rag firm, but in a matter of seconds she could no longer feel her fingers, a numb sensation creeping into her body.

She could not give up, and her will to live was great. She mustered her strength and twisted violently to the left, sending her chair spilling over onto the cement of the open patio. Her head hit hard enough to cause stars in her vision. Floundering, she gulped in lungfuls of clean air and tried to get a look at her attacker, but it was no use as she vomited immediately from the chemical smell. Her head was swimming and she rolled over, raising her hand to rewind. It was no good; she couldn't concentrate.

The kick to her ribs was sharp and the pain immediate. Max doubled in two, her breaths coming in ragged coughs. There was bile stuck in her hair, and she could barely see the hand coming at her again with that sweet-smelling cloth. This time Max was quick enough to jab her thumb out in the general direction of the assailant's face. She felt contact as her thumb landed right in the eye and as they let out a shriek and jerked backwards Max stumbled to her feet, desperation pushing her dragging feet forward, one in front of the other as she shuffled away from whoever it was.

This time the blow was to the back of her knees, and when her legs crumpled underneath her the next blow was to her head.

Darkness seeped into the corners of her vision, and when she opened her eyes again moments later all she could see was the black ink of the night sky. She was being dragged across the beach. The acrid taste of blood registered her mouth, and she could feel granules of sand brush against her fingers, the same rough granules that Nathan had collected for his hourglass.

Her head felt light as she stared at the stars twinkling above her. They were so bright, and the light had traveled so far to meet them here. She had stared at this same patch of sky on the same stretch of beach with Nathan through the open sunroof on his truck.

It wasn't until she felt her upper half being lifted off of the ground did she snap out of her chemical-induced stupor. She noted with groggy panic that somebody was trying to lift her into the trunk of a black car. Redirecting her gaze, she saw curly hair and feminine features. A woman? Everything was so fuzzy. Max's limbs flailed from side to side and she slipped from her grasp, Max's fist connecting with one reciprocating blow before sprinting into the woods nearby.

* * *

  
_9:46 pm, Arcadia Bay_

Max crouched low in the trees, her lungs still burning. Theoretically, the woods weren't the best place to run to get help, but the car was in between her and Vic's beach house, and her muddled brain could see nowhere else to run. Every instinct screamed _hide!_

Max felt Jefferson's fingers on her neck, and the helpless, trapped feeling when she'd thought she was going to die in that dark room came rushing back all at once, and Max struggled to even out her breaths. _I have to survive. I will. I'm not going back._

When she tried to move, her head swam again. Max crawled faster. Think. Has to be a way out. Have to get help.

She tasted something bitter and metallic and when she spit onto the ground it was bright red in the moonlight and she realized it was blood. She must have bitten the inside of her mouth when she got hit in the head. Her ribs ached with a persistent throb as she continued to shuffle across the forest ground. When she heard footsteps coming towards her, she froze, ducking down under what she hoped was a very concealing low-hanging branch. _Please, please don't see me._

She held her breath as twigs crunched underfoot, and when the footsteps finally receded, she peeled the hair back from her eyes and risked a furtive glance at the assailant.

When she caught sight of Wendy Stern's contorted expression, she couldn't help gasping aloud.

She may have been drugged, but the moon was bright enough that Max knew what she saw. There was no time for her to process this information, and she tried to focus her sluggish mind on escaping.  

Staying hidden as best she could, Max maneuvered underneath some prickly bushes.

A loud impact sounded, a low thud, and Max heard struggling and the crunching of leaves. When she dared to peek out from her cover, she was shocked to see Dr. Stern on the ground ensued in some sort of tangle with a second figure, grunting with exertion.

"Max! Duck!" Nathan's voice rang out in the trees. "Duck NOW."

_What?_ His words registered through the thick fog in her head, and she threw herself back to the ground just as a gunshot sounded and air whizzed above her. Sleeping birds were startled from their branches as a flurry of leaves and feathers floated down from the sky. Her mind struggled to keep up; Nathan had come from nowhere.

"I would never shoot Max! I need her!" was Dr. Stern's disgruntled cry.

"Then drop your gun!" Nathan retorted from the darkness of the woods. Max had no idea where he was, everything was happening so fast.

"And give you a chance to rush me? Little idiot."

Dr. Stern's voice was farther away, searching for them, and before Max could decide what to do next, a hand grabbed her arm desperately, and she started.

"Shh, it's me."

"How did you know where I—"

"There's no time. Take this," Nathan said urgently. His voice was strained, and when Max got a better look at him, she saw a crimson trail running from his nose. Nathan's hands shook as he shoved his cell phone and a pocket knife at her. "No reception here. Get to the lighthouse."

"Come with me!" she insisted. Even as they moved carefully up the incline, the exertion led Nathan's forehead to break into a sweat. "Are you hurt?"

He gritted his teeth and shook his head no, motioning impatiently to the trees ahead of them, urging her to go forward. There was still blood creeping down his face.

"How did you know we were out here?"

"I can't...do it again," he wheezed, his eyes shining with moisture. "You have to get away."

"Nathan..." she said slowly as realization dawned. "Did you—What did you do?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, with nathan wilting like a flower, it looks like it's time for max to step up and take a swing. go max go!
> 
> the next chapter explains that last scene through nathan's POV :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promised i'd finish the story before christmas, so here i am!
> 
> _At the Bottom_ by Brand New  
>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p03JSRyqoY8
> 
> _Sea_ by George Winston (another instrumental and very mood-fitting)  
>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXEm72YtMJU

_7:31 pm, Portland_

With Nathan's engine sabotaged, he had to think fast. He pushed his smoking truck over to the shoulder of the road with the help of a random passerby. He dialed the first classmates he could think of with cars. Someone had to lend him their car for the night. He wouldn't take no for an answer.

By the time he was able to get on the road to Arcadia Bay in an actual working vehicle, Max only had an hour's head start on him. She would arrive at the party a little over halfway through his drive. Hopefully that gave him enough time. If Dr. Stern really was behind all this, she clearly had something up her sleeve to try this hard to delay Nathan.

He frantically sent texts to Max in case she turned her phone on, warning her about Dr. Stern and defending himself against Geneva's lies.

The hour and a half drive was agonizing. He sped twenty miles over the speed limit, dodging in and out of traffic recklessly.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he found Max's car outside the beach house, but his spirits plummeted again when he couldn't locate her anywhere in the party. Victoria's celebration was in full swing, and when she caught sight of him she shrieked and kept trying to shove drinks and food at him.

"Omigod, Nathan! I can't believe you're here, I didn't know you could make it!" She swayed drunkenly, her cheeks flushed from dancing. _You would if you bothered to pick up your phone once alcohol entered your system,_ he thought bitterly.

He tried his best to brush her off as she hung onto his arm and eager inquiries regarding Max's whereabouts were met with disappointment—Victoria hadn't seen her for at least twenty minutes.

"Yeah, something's up with her phone so you'll just have to look for her. I'm sure she's around," Victoria said before being hoisted up on some thick dude's shoulders as the next beat dropped.

After scrupulously combing the entire house (even busting in on some couples getting hot and heavy in the bedrooms) and still no Max, he ventured out back to look. The patio was paved and furnished, and it led right onto the sand, the waves gently crashing on the shore.

It was quiet, except for the crickets behind him. As he turned to go back inside, he almost didn't notice the overturned lounge chair. He would have ignored it completely had it not been for the smear of blood on the concrete a few feet away from the chair.

_Max_ , he thought with alarm. It might be too late.

He sprinted across the sand towards the trees and saw the same black Honda from earlier parked next to the secondary trail that branched up to the lighthouse. Dr. Stern's vehicle. There was no one in sight, and the trunk was left open, a long coil of rope ominously resting on the felt interior.

That sickening feeling in his gut returned. He fished out his pocket knife he'd brought along and sank its blade into the thick rubber of her tire. Let's see how this bitch likes having  _her_ tires slashed, he thought to himself. It was a precautionary move as well. She wouldn't be able to get very far in the event that she did something to Max. He headed into the thick clump of trees. The air was warm, but a cool breeze from the sea rustled the leaves above him. The moon wasn't even close to full, but it was enough to see by. He traipsed a ways along the trail, listening for anything, anybody.

"Max!" he called out. "Where are you?" A shot rang out, scaring the living shit out of him as he dropped to the ground. There was Dr. Stern in the distance, looking wild as she brandished a pistol, squinting in the dark as if struggling with poor night vision.

Flattening himself against a tree, Nathan reached into his pocket for his phone to dial 911. No reception. _Fucking woods._

"Should have stayed in Portland, you asshole," he heard Dr. Stern mutter under her breath. She switched tactics instantly. "Don't listen to anything he says, my love," Dr. Stern called out into the trees. "Remember what he did to Chloe and Kate, and to Geneva."

Anger boiled up in his throat. "Don't twist this around, you sick fuck!"

Dr. Stern had been baiting Nathan to give away his position, and he had fallen for it. Another gunshot in his direction. It still missed him entirely.

He heard a terrible choking, gurgling sound to his right and a thud. _Shit._

Max was crumpled on the ground, her breaths coming short and fast, high-pitched and wheezing.

"Son of a _bitch_ ," he cried as he flung himself towards her. The bullet had pierced Max right above the collarbone, blood pooling into a dark puddle beneath her head. "No, no, no, no."

The fear in her eyes was palpable, and she couldn't even see him in front of her, the shock blinding her as she fixated on an empty point in the sky. When he looked down at her, though, all he could see was Chloe's face. It was Chloe's, not Max's eyes, that were staring upwards, the life draining from them while the blood was sticky on his palms. His gut seized as he felt like he was transported right back to the bathroom in Blackwell. Fuck this, he couldn't live through it again.

He backed away, panicked and sick.

His hand raised on its own volition, and before he knew what he was doing the world was rushing backwards, colors and sounds blurring and distorting before his eyes. The pain in his head was searing white hot, and he knew he would only get this one chance to do it right.

He was back at the start of the woods again, before he had alerted Dr. Stern to his presence. It was imperative he get that gun from her now that he knew where Max was hiding.

This time he came up silently behind Dr. Stern and launched himself at her, tackling her to the ground. He had been counting on startling her into the dropping the gun and seized her wrist. Unfortunately, Dr. Stern fought him like a frenzied hyena pumped with adrenaline, her strength heightened as she gripped the gun steadfastly. He held her wrist away from him, trying to keep the barrel from aiming at his face.

Nathan's heart sank when he realized that the gun was now pointing right at Max's hiding spot, just like before. He was losing his grip and soon her fingers would curl right around the trigger. His brain felt physically fried; he would not be able to rewind again.

"Max, duck!" he screamed at her desperately. "Duck, NOW!" A shot rang out again, and he strained his ears to listen for Max. With the commotion of the gun going off, he was able to leap back into the trees, his only concern now to get Max out of there. He couldn't risk the gun discharging in a struggle again, his body feeling drained of strength from just the one rewind. All of the drugs he'd ingested over the years had taken too large a toll on his system for his power to work properly.

"I would never shoot Max!" Dr. Stern cried out vehemently in response to his warning. "I _need_ her!"

"Then drop your gun."

"And give you a chance to rush me? Little idiot."

He army crawled away from her voice, throwing rocks behind him as a distraction away from where he knew Max was. _Yes, thank you, God._ Approaching the bush she had previously tumbled out of, he found Max instantly, battered but alive.

"Shh, it's me," he whispered as he gripped her arm.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and shock. "How did you know where I—"

"There's no time. Take this." He tasted pennies and realized that his nose was bleeding heavily. He knew he would pass out shortly by the pain in his head, and he thrust his pocket knife and cell phone at her, offering her the only protection he had left to give. Soon, he wouldn't be able to help at all.

Nathan could tell the exact moment that she figured out he'd been rewinding. Her expressive eyes held a new concern, but he urged them forward towards cell reception. The rest of their exchange was a blur, and his feet grew heavier and heavier—like trying to lift cinder blocks through a swamp.

* * *

  
_10:12 pm, Arcadia Bay_

Nathan was fading fast, and Max could not hold him up. His face was as white as fresh snowfall in the moonlight, and his nose hadn't stopped bleeding since he found her. She could see the lighthouse clearing through the trees, but every time she held the phone up, it still read No Signal. They had to get closer.

Nathan stopped moving his feet completely and began to sink to the ground. His arm was around her neck and his weight began to pull her down with him.

"Nathan, get up!" she hissed desperately. "Come on, you're too heavy for me."

She shook him frantically, and his eyelids fluttered shut. "Please wake up, Nathan, _please_."

He did not move.

She checked the phone again and her heart leapt as she saw a low signal bar. She swiped across the screen and opened the number pad, typing 9, and then 1, and then—

"Max! I found you!" Dr. Stern cried triumphantly. Max cringed as she saw the gun in her hand and began to back up towards the lighthouse. When Wendy saw that Max was in the midst of dialing, she trained the gun right at her. "Drop the phone, honey."

"You won't shoot me. You said so yourself."

"But I will shoot him. It will be harder to fake a suicide with a bullet, but I can work with it." To Max's horror, she switched targets and pointed the gun at Nathan's lifeless form. Max let the phone slip from her fingers. Her heart was racing with adrenaline, and she couldn't help easing herself further and further away from Dr. Stern, eyeing the gun warily.

"Come over here, Max. Come to me." Dr. Stern's voice oozed with the same sweetness as the chloroform cloth she still held. Her eye was red from where Max had jabbed it with her thumb, and her hair stuck out wildly.

"Not a chance in hell."

"Come now," she spat, her facade withering as her patience was tested. "I'll put a bullet in his brain, see if I don't."

Max had nowhere else to back up. She was right on the edge of the cliff now, the lighthouse towering over her. The knowledge that Dr. Stern wanted to keep Max alive at all costs was useful. She had a plan, and the frenzied look of desperation in Dr. Stern's eye told her that it just might work.

Max peered over the edge of the cliff, the ocean wind tugging at her hair. "I'll do it," she whispered.

"What?"

"I'll do it. I swear I will."

Now Wendy noticed the sheer dropoff of the cliff that Max gestured to.

"Darling, you wouldn't do something that stupid over a boy. Especially _this_ boy," she said with disgust. Despite her nonchalant words, Max's tactic worked, and Dr. Stern inched away from Nathan and closer to Max, fearful that she might actually jump.

Dr. Stern was wrong, though; it wasn't about a boy. It was about being victimized. Giving herself up quietly would mean subjecting herself to whatever terrors this psychotic woman had in store. Max was tired of running in fear, tired of feeling helpless, and tired of letting others around her control her life. She would dive headfirst off of that cliff in an instant rather than give this woman what she wanted.

Wendy grew palpably nervous, and lowered her gun away from Nathan entirely, moving closer to Max almost imperceptibly. She did not know that Max was armed, however, and Max swung forward violently with Nathan's pocket knife.

This woman truly was desperate to have Max alive, and in her alarm the gun was relinquished, hitting the ground with a heavy thud as Wendy instinctively put both arms up in self-defense, hovering around Max, looking for an opening. She was calculating, and Max knew her advantage was fleeting. She swiped furiously again, and Wendy dodged.

When Wendy lunged at her in an attempt to disarm her, Max's blade met with resistance as she sliced her from palm to wrist. Wendy let out a cry not unlike an injured animal, her livid face ugly and crazed as the wound bled instantly.

This time when Max swiped, Wendy was ready for her. She dodged swiftly and counterattacked, knocking Max to her knees with surprising force. Her grip loosened on the knife for an instant and she was met with a tooth-rattling blow to the head, presumably meant to render her unconscious. Wendy had retrieved the gun and used the butt of it as a weapon to knock her out. Max remained awake, but she fell over and her bruised head spun with stars once again. Dr. Stern moved to pin her and Max reached blindly to the side for her knife.

"No, you don't!" Wendy muttered through gritted teeth and jabbed Max right in her solar plexus, knocking the wind out of her and jostling her aching ribs.  

Sputtering and choking, she clawed at Wendy, trying to free herself.  

Max's arms were smeared with crimson from Wendy's open wound, still bleeding profusely. Wendy pinned her wrists and leaned down, her breath hot against Max's cheek. The sensation made her skin crawl. "Just give in," she rasped into Max's ear. Wendy reached for her chloroform,

It was so easy to let go. She fought hard and for what? A dead student, an unconscious boyfriend, a stalker, and a framed set up. She was mentally exhausted and shaken to her core. Rachel had fought as well, to no avail. And Chloe. She thought of the hourglass, and Nathan offering her a hand up from the darkness.

Enough.

She hadn't given up with Jefferson and she wasn't about to give up now. _Fuck this lady_.

Mustering every last ounce of strength that she didn't know she had, Max let out a cry as she twisted her body violently, getting her knee up and landing a kick in Wendy's side.

The effect was immediate. Wendy rolled off of Max and right to the edge of the cliff, sending a spray of pebbles down to the rocks below. Wendy exclaimed in panic and raked at the earth with her fingernails, desperately trying to pull herself back up.

When Wendy slid out of view over the cliff, a sickening snap of bones told Max that she'd landed on the boulders not fifteen feet below them, rather than the sheer drop to the water. Her agonizing cries wafted up to the lighthouse. Max dared to inch over to the cliffside, peering down below to see Wendy's leg twisted at a horrific angle.

Her face wet with tears, Max crawled over to Nathan. His chest was rising and falling slowly.

"We're safe," she whispered.

* * *

  
The rest of the night was like a hazy dream. Max felt like she was in shock, and had a hard time answering all of the police's questions.

She had been unable to carry or drag Nathan down from the lighthouse, so she had called 911 and stayed put, clamping her hands over her ears to drown out the wailing coming from the boulder on the cliff. As the helicopter approached to airlift Wendy to the hospital, she had thrown herself down the rest of the way, disappearing into the dark water.

They didn't find her body until four days later.

As each piece of the puzzle was uncovered, it became easier to believe why she threw herself into the icy water rather than face what she had coming. Her name wasn't Wendy Stern at all, it was Catherine Knoles, and she had an extensive list of charges against her including fraud, extortion, impersonation, and now kidnapping, prescription forging, and murder.

The police took possession of her car and her phony therapist's office, finding all the information they needed to release Sean Prescott by the end of the next day. There was no hard evidence of his blackmailing, and apparently the cops couldn't incarcerate somebody just for being an asshole.

Nathan's family fell at his feet instantly, placating him and crooning at him for saving the family and being so brave as to aid in the downfall of a dangerous killer. Unimpressed, Nathan didn't take many of their calls, preferring to keep his distance in Portland and responding only to Kristine's emails.

Ryan and Vanessa Caulfield were baffled at Max's involvement in yet another Arcadia Bay scandal, and unfortunately Max had not much to offer in the way of explanations or consoling. They rattled off their mandatory You-Can-Come-To-Us-With-Anything parent speech and Max was obliged to nod and make nice to get them off of her back. They didn't understand, but that was okay. Some secrets were not meant to be told.

That same night at the lighthouse, settled near the paramedics' truck with a scratchy wool shock blanket draped over her shoulders, Max tried to tune out the noise. Throughout all the bustle and movement and the flashing lights from the police cars casting patterns on the inside of Max's tired eyelids, she caught Nathan's eye from afar. He was doing his best to answer a barrage of questions from the Sheriff. His steely gaze locked with hers and his expression was clear. It sucked now, but it would get better.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the last chapter will be a short epilogue. if you still have questions about nathan's power, fear not :)


	16. (Epilogue)

_Epilogue_ :

"How did you do it?" Max asked Nathan. They were sitting underneath a tree outside of the science building on campus. It was morning, and they both had a break between classes. The air was cool, clouds blanketing the sky. Soon the semester would be over, and they would move back to Arcadia Bay for the summer. Max already made appointments with her advisors to put together fall semester's classes. She'd be scraping by with a pretty low GPA this time around, but she felt lucky for not having failed anything, given the circumstances.

It had only been a few days since the incident at the lighthouse, and Max's bruises were still fresh. It earned her some strange looks in class, but public scrutiny was trivial in comparison to the kinds of things she had been worrying about a week ago.

"How did I do what?" he asked.

"Rewind. I thought you couldn't use your powers anymore."

While Nathan had not wanted to disclose details about what happened specifically, he had let on enough to indicate that she had been gravely injured in some way. She caught him staring sometimes. He looked as if he couldn't believe she was sitting in front of him, and he often reached out to touch her in some way, a brush of fingertips to remind himself that she was real.

"I still can't," he answered. She kept quiet, waiting for him to press on. "That night at the cabin...after I saw those photos of you...I was scared, Max. I hadn't been scared like that for another person since, well, I can't remember when. Maybe before I numbed myself when Jefferson killed Rachel."

"You didn't seem afraid."

"I stopped taking my meds. All of them."

" _What?_ How could you? You know how dangerous that is," Max exclaimed, sitting upright. She had certainly noticed his increasing agitation in both his mannerisms and behavior, of course, but had attributed it to the stress of his father's arrest.

"Don't look at me like that. I had to. We were treading way over our heads. I wasn't about to let you plunge into a sticky situation without a backup plan. I know I was acting like an asshole, but my withdrawal was a fucking nightmare." He paused to rub his temples. "I had to be able to rewind, though."

"Next time you come up with a safety net, it had better not be at the expense of your mental health. You better be taking them now," Max threatened.  

"I swear I am. Every dose. I learned a hard lesson there, since the rewind didn't even help. It only made me feel like I was hooked up to an electric chair."

"Didn't help!" Max said in disbelief. "How can you say that? You warned me from the bullet—the bullet that whizzed an inch above my head, I might add."

"The bullet would never had left the chamber if I hadn't barged in," he pointed out. "I only proved to be dead weight in the end, passing out like that."

"Without you I wouldn't have had a knife or a cell phone to call for help. It was a team effort, and I'm not selling either one of us short."

"You're such a fucking diplomat, Caulfield," he said in disgust as he slung his arm around her neck nonetheless.

"Keep up the attitude, but you're the one who can't keep your hands off me, so I think you secretly love it," she insisted.

"Don't get it confused, I love you _despite_ that."

After Victoria found out just how much the two of them had concealed from her in regards to the investigation, she forgave them on account of her party being the talk of Arcadia Bay for months. Once helicopters and emergency vehicles stormed the beach mid-party, the town buried itself ten feet deep in the gossip mill—Vic's party being the main headlining event.

Max and Nathan were able to put some healthy distance between themselves, visiting each other for pleasure rather than fear or necessity, no longer feeling the obligation of sticking together for safety in numbers. With this new dynamic, they began to explore a relationship based off of nothing but mutual affection, the way it should have been from the start.

With an actual professional, Max could start to get the help she needed. While her panic attacks had notably subsided, there were still bad days, which was to be expected. She clung to the people around her who offered their support, and most of all took Nathan's advice to keep going and to never give up. His face the night of the accident had said it all. Things were not perfect, but they could only look up from here, breaking the surface of their nightmares to brave another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everybody, I had a blast writing this! It was a good warm-up for me to get back into my favorite hobby.  
> Feel free to hit me up on tumblr, I'm wasteland-frenzy  
> Thanks again, you're all lovely <3 xo
> 
> jan 2018 update: i'll still be keeping tabs on this fic so i can respond to your comments! ty for the encouragement


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